


burn the candle at both ends

by connorsmarkus (nnivanfields)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, platonic buddycop au, really just an episode of svu with dbh characters i think, request, slight angst, slight comedy, some bloody/gory elements, very very vague mention of past sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-07-28 20:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20070007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nnivanfields/pseuds/connorsmarkus
Summary: Three weeks following a case that nearly claimed Connor's life, Hank and the android are reassigned to the case with the help of Gavin and the RK900. Sink or swim, they're determined to take the perp down.AKA: the platonic buddycop au only one person asked for but we legitimately need more of.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by a lovely user on Tumblr. Their specific request was something along the lines of "a platonic hankcon buddycop au with bonus nines and gavin and a cliche murder case", which gave me lots of room for creativity. I probably didn't go very cliche, but I have watched like maybe one or two episodes of any given cop show, so... lmfao
> 
> All that said, I'm having fun with this! It'll be a two-part episode-esque fic with lots of character development, bonding, comedy, and angsty drama to come. Hope y'all enjoy!

_Red and blue. _

_Red and blue, red and blue, red and blue._

_That’s all Hank can see around the room. Bodies on the floor, splattered abstractly with red, lying on their own canvas. The occasional android scattered about, LED flickering violent red, blue surrounding them. _

_Connor. Connor sitting propped up against a wall, LED red, covering a growing blue stain on the front of his shirt. _

_Red and blue. God, there’s so much of it. _

_Fuck, fuck, fuck—_

—“Lieutenant?”

Hank looks up from the monitor he’s apparently been zoning out on for too long to see Connor staring at him from his own nearby computer. His LED is on the butt end of flickering yellow, as the second their eyes meet, it returns to blue. Hank wrinkles his nose, automatically aware of the fact that Connor just finished screening him.

“Christ, Connor,” he grunts, picking up his now-cold coffee and taking a long swig of it, “I told you to quit checking my vitals and shit. I’m fine, alright?”

He _is_ fine, too. Connor is just horrifyingly perceptive. Even following deviancy, Connor still does things that androids did before being acknowledged as a living species. He still monitors the stress levels and heart rates of his coworkers, and he’s even pointed out a few times when Hank should have been at home resting off his _low-grade _fever. He still harps on about Hank’s food intake, without shame, despite the many times he’s been told not to.

Though, Hank supposes he should be taking all that as a compliment. Connor isn’t doing it because it’s part of his programming anymore. He’s concerned about those he cares about, and ever since Fowler gave them the green light to continue working together on homicide cases, they’ve become closer friends than ever.

It’s also worth acknowledging that when Connor checks Hank’s vitals, he isn’t ‘being a robot’ so much as he’s using the abilities he has just like any living thing would. Like a dog has a keen sense of smell or a bat uses echolocation to find its way about, an android uses scanning and HUD alerts to get by. It’s not so different from the way any other living part of the ecosystem thrives, Hank supposes. But…still. Fucking _still_.

He’d spaced out because of the case that had popped up on the monitor. Fowler had removed him and Connor from the case after a chaotic incident following a stakeout had resulted in mass casualties and nearly cost Connor his life. There are no more RK800 models in production, so Connor had spent weeks in a Cyberlife facility undergoing repair after repair until he had been restored back to functionality.

Now that Connor’s been back a few weeks, the case is back on Hank’s list, and he’s not certain he wants to take it.

Homicide is one of those departments that you can’t ever really predict. Sometimes, once you crack the case, it’s as easy as tracking down the murderer and putting them behind bars. But other times, you wind up dealing with someone extremely volatile and unpredictable. This case had been the latter. Hank and Connor had traced all the evidence down to one guy and wound up in a convention center full to the brim of his supporters and ordinary citizens alike. They had lost twelve lives that day, and Connor had almost been the thirteenth.

“Hank, you’re doing it again.”

When Hank looks up from his thoughts this time, Connor is smiling. He almost looks amused by the situation, but it beats that weird, blinky-LED state of nervousness he goes into when analyzing Hank most other times. In any case, the Lieutenant shakes his head.

“I’m fine, Connor.” He sighs and stands up, deciding that he can’t tolerate cold coffee any longer. “Our next case…we’re not taking that one. I’ll talk to Fowler about it.”

Connor’s LED chooses a bright shade of yellow again, before he turns his focus to his monitor again. Connor has a wide variety of endearing facial expressions, but most of his emotional reactions show in the way his LED responds to whatever is going on around him. It’s a curious thing, and Hank has noticed that most other deviant androids, even ones still equipped with an LED, react almost exactly the way a human would. He’s never questioned it, though. It’s just another part of what makes Connor who he is.

As he turns away and heads for the break room, he hears the swiveling of Connor’s wheels as he pushes his chair back and follows. “This case is…”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Hank grunts out in response. “Which is why we’re not taking it.”

“I think you should review the contents again, Lieutenant,” Connor suggests, following close behind. “Fowler isn’t just putting us on the case. He’s got Detective Reed and the RK900 on it as well. With their help and a more delicate approach, I believe we can—”

“Nope.” Hank doesn’t even give Connor a chance to finish. He pours his coffee and then blows away the steam over the top. “There are plenty of other ones we can dedicate our time to.”

Connor doesn’t look convinced, but as Hank faces him fully, he folds his hands behind his back. “If you say so, Lieutenant. Would you mind if I join you in your meeting with the Captain?”

Hank shrugs. “Be my guest. It might get ugly, though.”

“I’m aware of that.”

Over the past year, Hank has been steadily rebuilding his old reputation. For a while, he got a hefty amount of the old excitement out of closing case after case, and while his drinking hasn’t stopped, having Connor around has helped it slow considerably. Connor helps keep his mind occupied, and he’s also got no problem literally dragging Hank out of a bar if he starts to get too carried away.

He’s no replacement for Cole, but he’s definitely been helping Hank find his way back out of rock bottom. For a while, back when Hank had still had trouble accepting the massive change that the rebellion had brought about, he’d almost seen Connor as a son. But as of the past year, he’s grown significantly and helped Hank to grow, and Hank has a trusted friend in him now.

While Connor may not be Cole, he’s definitely good for Hank.

Either way, when Hank and Connor step into Fowler’s office, he seems to know instantly what they’re visiting for. He regards Hank with an almost impatient expression, before he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Alright, Hank. Let it out.”

Yep, he knows exactly what Hank’s here to bitch about.

Hank doesn’t give a shit, though. He’s still going to plead his case. That in mind, he starts in before he even reaches his Captain’s desk. “You know what happened the last time we took this case.”

“Which is why I assigned someone else to it, as well,” Fowler answers simply. “Gavin and Richard have been an excellent pair in android-human hate crimes cases. I’m sure they’ll be perfect for the job.”

“This isn’t even a hate crime case!” Hank retorts, raising both hands to punctuate his point. “This case is dangerous! I know none of us like seeing that scumbag Perkins here, but he’s perfect for the thing! Let him and his goons handle it.”

“You really want that?” Fowler raises an eyebrow. “Hank, that guy’s got it out for you after you slugged him in the middle of the station. Do you know how many strings I had to pull to let you keep your badge after that? Trust me—the last thing you want is him stepping in on this and using the fact that you and your partner failed the first time against you. Let your balls drop already, and get the fuck to work before we have no _choice_ but to call the feds in.”

Well, Hank sort of already knew that was going to happen. Despite his determination not to accept the case, he knows he doesn’t really have any options. He supposes he and Connor need to figure something out, then.

But with Nines and Reed on the case…have they already been looking into it?

He grunts his disapproval and storms out of the office. Faintly, he can hear Connor following him.

“The good news is,” Connor starts, attempting reassurance, “we still have some viable evidence from our last visit to this case, so we should be able to close in on the perpetrator fairly quickly.”

Hank rolls his eyes. “It’s not how quickly we catch the guy that I’m worried about.” He casts a glance to the shared desk where Richard and Gavin usually work. There’s no Gavin poking away on his cellphone, and no Richard tapping tirelessly at a keyboard. Another glance toward the break room tells him they’re not in there, either, so Hank guesses they’re either poking around in the evidence room or already out on the case.

If they’re going to work together on it, hopefully it’s the former.

That in mind, Hank rolls his shoulders, dusting away some of his frustration, and starts for the evidence room.

Thankfully, that turns out to be exactly where the other two detectives are. Richard has his attention focused on all the clues Hank and Connor had recovered during their last investigation on the case, while Gavin stands behind with his arms crossed.

The evidence is all pretty damning…at least, in terms of their last time on the case. Two high school students had gone missing six months prior to the case, and then a security guard for a museum on the outskirts of the town had discovered their bodies on the ground around back, discarded, their corpses still relatively fresh. Autopsies had shown little sign of physical abuse, and both students had died of gunshot wounds to the head. Considering both bodies had both entrance and exit wounds, it was safe to assume they’d been shot point-blank.

Hank and Connor had tracked the case for weeks, toiling away at various locations where the students had last been seen and finding virtually nothing, until Connor had discovered an old case from three years prior, where another two high school students had disappeared for nearly the exact same amount of time and had yet to be discovered. The case had gone cold, but following it led to the realization that several more children had been abducted straight out of high school and either murdered or kidnapped.

They’d spent weeks combing the outskirts of town, searching and hoping and praying that some sort of lead would pop up.

One night, during a routine investigation outside of the art museum, a young woman had approached them. She looked to be either fresh out of high school or in her early twenties, with hair as wiry as straw and a filthy face. She wore dirt-stained street clothes that looked as if they hadn’t been washed in days. But she claimed she could help them, and begged for them to take her into custody.

During questioning, the girl dumped an unbelievable story out in front of them. The high school students had all been seniors who had questioned what they wanted to do for college. A man would attend the job fairs there and seek out these students, masquerading as a parent. He would confront them later, inviting them to work for his company. He sold himself as an up-and-coming movie director, and he claimed to need everything from engineers to actors to makeup artists. Every student who had something they were passionate about but wasn’t sure they could attend college for it no doubt saw something of a promise in him.

This girl claimed to be one of the ones abducted. She met the man at a coffee shop in town, visited with him, and they hit it off, before he invited her to his studio. They never made it, however. Instead, she found herself being driven to some old house and locked away with at least ten other people.

Gavin is staring at the recording Richard is watching of her explaining his motive:

_“He took us in because he’s a doomsday prepper. Wants to groom us into people who’ll survive the world after it ends. Tried to force some of us into sex with each other, tried to have sex with others. Needed us to be ready to reproduce when the time came. We lived in bunkers. He never beat us. He never screamed at us. But if you tried to leave, you were dead. As far as I know, I’m the only one who’s ever escaped alive.”_

Hank remembers that following that statement, she had introduced herself with the exact name of one of those missing high school students from three years ago, and she had been their biggest lead toward cracking the case. The man had attended a convention for doomsday preppers and Connor and Hank had tracked him down without even knowing his name.

They hadn’t been ready for so many people to be in support of the man or his actions, but once they had arrived and attempted to make an arrest, they had been swarmed. Some of the people were armed. Others were physically combative. Calling in backup had resulted in more casualties from both sides. It had been a giant mess, and Hank had almost lost Connor in the mix.

So needless to say, he’s still not all that thrilled about the fact that he has to reinvestigate the case, even with Nines and Gavin to assist him.

But he also gets where Fowler is coming from. He knows who his strong detectives are, and he has put them all together to solve a case that would otherwise go cold. And none of them know if the man is still abducting kids. There haven’t been any missing reports of the same nature since the incident at the convention center, but you can never be too sure.

“She led us right to him,” Hank explains as Richard returns the tablet with the recording back to its spot on the shelf. “Her claims had us sure we’d cracked the case.”

“I’m familiar with the story,” the RK900 responds thoughtfully, directing his attention to Hank. “And now I understand why you didn’t expect supporters. The way this girl talked, everyone hated being there. You were ready to arrest this man, find his hideout, and set a group of children free.”

Both Hank and Connor nod, as Hank speaks up. “We hadn’t expected anyone to fall for his words. People believe in the end of the world, though. Whatever he told these kids had to have been convincing, because they were willing to put their lives on the line to defend him.”

Connor raises a hand to his chin in thought. “It takes thirty days to build a habit.”

Gavin speaks up there. “…S'cuse me?”

“Thirty days isn’t a precise number, mind you, but it’s a common saying that, in essence, rings true. You expose enough people to the same routine every day, and it becomes a habit. Some people have even grown protective of their habits. It’s within the realm of possibility that some of these children even grew to regard this man like family.”

Gavin frowns. “Like some sort of Stockholm Syndrome kinda shit, then…that’s fucked up. But it also explains why the two of you weren’t ready to get your asses kicked.”

Gavin and Hank don’t exactly get along still, but they’re doing better professionally now that Gavin has his own android partner to keep him in line. Richard puts up with Gavin’s smart mouth for the most part, but he has had to lay down the law a couple of times. Oddly enough, it’s worked, and the two of them still come together as a team almost flawlessly.

Hank respects their dynamic, because it’s not totally unlike the way things had been between himself and Connor before. And maybe that’s what Gavin needs.

“This information is pertinent,” Richard interjects, his arms folded behind his back, “but it still doesn’t give us clues as to where to resume the investigation.”

“That’s an easy one,” Gavin replies. “We go back to the convention center.”

“It’s been weeks since the incident,” Hank reminds. “Any evidence there was has been brought here already.”

“What about the survivors?” Gavin continues easily. “We could talk to them.”

“They were questioned following the day of the incident,” Richard joins in. “Their files are likely in here somewhere…” As if on cue, he starts moving about the room in search of said files.

Hank watches as Connor starts toward the tablet Richard had placed on the shelf and pulls it back up. He starts it up and immediately, the gears start turning. Hank can’t stop himself from moving to stand alongside Connor and watch next to him.

The girl’s name is Tasha Warren. A white female, twenty-one years of age, now living with her mother and father in the safety of their Detroit home. When they had spoken to her before, she had declined their request to show them where the man had been keeping her. She had been unable to give them an exact address, because she hadn’t known. The only way would have been to lead them there, and she was too afraid of being spotted to do that.

But perhaps, with more people on the case this time around, they can do some convincing.

Connor glances at Hank as he returns the recording to the shelf once more. “I believe we should attempt to contact her again.”

“She was pretty adamant last time,” Hank replies thoughtfully, still staring at the recording, with its frozen picture of her wiry hair and dirty face. “And she gave us more evidence than we could ask for last time.”

“I’m aware,” Connor agrees with a nod, “but I think she may be our only way back into this case.”

“He’s right, Lieutenant,” Nines joins in again. “If she refuses again, so be it, but I think we need to find the place she’d been kept at if we hope to get anywhere anytime soon.”

“Otherwise, we’re waiting for some more dead teenagers to pop up behind an old-ass art museum,” Gavin adds.

Gavin isn’t a bad detective. In fact, he’s easily one of their smartest. It’s just that he sometimes gets caught up in his own head and loses track of what he’s really trying to do. It’s easier for him to make jeers at Hank when they’re both on the same case than for him to work. He’s gotten a lot better about it now that he has his own partner, though.

He definitely seems to be acting much more like a team player today.

That in mind, they all know where they’re going, which his how they find themselves at the Warren household, asking young Tasha's mother if they can ask her a few questions.

It is absolutely understandable that the woman is reluctant, but they have to try.

“She gave you all the answers you needed three weeks ago…” Tasha's mother, a frail-looking woman by the name of Patricia, responds with an apologetic sort of exasperation on her face. “What kind of answers could she possibly give you now?”

“I know…” Hank replies, scrubbing at the back of his neck with his right hand. “But her kidnapper is still out there. All we want is to get him behind bars. It’s just as much for her safety as it is anyone else’s. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Warren, but could you please ask her if we could speak to her for just a few minutes?”

Patricia stares for a moment, before she releases a long sigh. “My daughter was missing for three years. I’m so thankful that she’s back. I’d give anything to make sure it doesn’t happen again. But please…you have to understand that she’s ready to put this chapter of her life to rest.”

“I do…we do.” Hank gestures to Connor, who nods quickly in agreement. Richard and Gavin have decided to hang back in the car for now. “And I swear to you, we’re trying to make it so that she can do so safely. There’s no telling whether he’s looking for her or not, and she gave us the bulk of our evidence last time around. If he finds her, he may not be the nicest--"

“Are you trying to frighten me, Lieutenant?” Patricia questions, her expression something like angered bewilderment.

“Forgive us, Ma’am,” Connor cuts in there, “but we’re just being upfront with you. We need you and your daughter to understand the reality of the situation. Your daughter’s life isn’t going to keep going until he’s dealt with and she knows she’s safe.”

“They’re right, Mom.”

Tasha has a weak-sounding voice. She had had one when they had interviewed her before, and she still does today. But she looks a lot healthier than she had on that night. She has her reddish hair tied back into a ponytail and sports blue plaid pajama pants and a tee shirt. She doesn’t look like she’s been hiding in the streets anymore. Hank feels some relief in that.

“It’s okay,” Tasha continues, nodding toward Hank. “I’ll talk to them.”

Patricia still looks reluctant, but with her daughter’s approval, she backs up and lets the two detectives inside. Hank watches as Connor’s eyes shift and red fills the normally brown irises like a camera lens. They had planned to record the entire session.

“We’re going to record this conversation,” Connor explains as he and Hank follow Tasha into the living room, “so that we don’t have to keep revisiting you for this situation. Is that alright?”

Tasha hones in on Connor, likely noticing the change in his eyes. A nervous sort of smile forms on her lips. Hank notices they’re dry and it looks as if she chews on them quite often. A telltale sign of anxiety. The poor girl…

“Huh, I didn’t know androids could do that.” She laughs a little. “You’re full of surprises.”

“I come equipped with as many features as possible to complete my assigned task,” Connor replies proudly. He’s a deviant now, but he still holds onto his commitment to his mission strongly. It’s admirable in its own right.

“I’ll bet you do,” Tasha smiles a little, before she turns her focus to Hank. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“Water's fine, thanks,” Hank replies. As Tasha disappears into the kitchen to get to work, Hank and Connor take a seat on the couch. They can hear her fumbling around in the kitchen for a few moments, before she joins them on an armchair across the coffee table. She passes Hank his drink.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” she tells them before they can even start questioning her. “I was so afraid to show you how to find the place where he kept us. I was sure he’d know I helped you and come hunt me down himself for it. But I still told you about the convention, and I still ran off. He probably knew it was me from the start…what do you think?”

“…It’s a big possibility, yeah,” Hank replies, his voice low with dismay.

“God, I almost wish you’d have lied to me,” Tasha comments with a broken sort of laugh. “I lie awake at night wondering if he knows my address. I’m so afraid he’ll come in through my window. It’s hard to sleep when he’s still out there. He’s very good at what he does, you know?”

“We do, unfortunately,” Connor replies. “Which brings me to the convention. We weren’t prepared to encounter supporters. Why didn’t you tell us he had them?”

Tasha shakes her head. “I had a lot on my mind. I was fleeing a man who would murder me if he found me. I really just wanted to get home and crawl into my own bed. I hadn’t slept in it in over three years…”

Connor nods. “You painted the picture of misery when you spoke about him. It’s hard to imagine anyone adheres to his cause. Could you tell us a little more about it?”

The look on Tasha’s face tells Hank she knew this was coming. That in mind, she rests her hands in her lap and immediately starts worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. “He’s…firm in his beliefs. He thinks the world is going to end very soon, and he provided all of us with some pretty convincing evidence. Changing weather patterns, the thinning ozone layer, sinkholes…and very few people seem to think any of this is out of the ordinary.”

Hank frowns. “Do you agree with him?”

Tasha shrugs. “I agree that something is wrong. The economy sucks and it’s only getting worse. People grow more and more violent. The weapons that have been created for the sake of warfare could capsize half the planet. If we’re doomed, it could happen in many ways. But my point is, he has at least a firm grasp of what he’s talking about. Kidnapping mentally-lost children and brainwashing them will never be on my list of good ways to go about teaching them what he knows. But he doesn’t think we have time.”

“He really believes the end is right around the corner, huh?” Hank questions as he takes a drink of his water.

Tasha nods. “I don’t think it’ll happen tomorrow or anything, but I don’t doubt that we’re in trouble. All that said, he scared all of us into thinking he was protecting us. He wanted to gather a group of educated people—get them ready for what was going to happen. He taught us how to ration, how to scavenge. Watched us like a hawk. The two kids that died six months ago? William and Karen Byers, a brother and a sister who didn’t like being farmed like cattle for a cause they didn’t believe in. They tried to escape and he tracked them down. From what I’ve heard, he shot them point-blank.”

“That’s accurate,” Connor confirms. “But you got out unscathed.”

Tasha scoffs there. “Hardly.”

When Hank and Connor both focus on her, she shakes her head. “I’ve seen a therapist once a week since I came home. Diagnosed with PTSD, can’t sleep at night. Even now, I’m afraid. I think of all the possibilities. What if Mom is on his side? What if you guys are? What if he has a key to my house? I’ll never feel safe again, because even when he’s in prison, I’ll worry that he escaped. I’m not unscathed.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor responds. “I didn’t mean to come off as uncaring.”

Tasha shakes her head again. “It’s alright. I just need you to know what you’re going to run into if you do manage to find the others. Many of them agree with him--they're willing to look past him treating us the way he did because they think they understand what it is he’s trying to do. But there are more like me. More who want out. And they deserve all the effort you can manage to make them feel safe. Please…get this man behind bars.”

Connor and Hank exchange glances, before they nod quickly. Hank turns to face her once more. “That’s the goal, I promise. But that means we’ll need your help. Can you show us where you ran from?”

Tasha, despite being determined to do what needs to be done to feel safe, looks hesitant. “I’m frightened of what might happen. I’m sure you understand.”

“We do,” Hank replies easily enough. “But in the long run, this is probably the only way we’re going to get the answers we need to do so. If it’s any comfort, we’ve got two more detectives standing outside, just waiting for the next step. I could have one of them give you a ride straight back home as soon as you get us there.”

Tasha hesitates, but in the end, decides they’re right. She releases a defeated sigh. “Don’t let me out of your sight.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

It’s terrifying, almost, just how close the location they’ve been led to is to the outskirts of Detroit. You have your city line, and then you have the little suburbs on the outskirts, and then you have a patch of woods overlooking the outer side of the city. Tasha leads them to a country road just a couple of miles from the museum where the other kids had been found, and as Hank parks the car, she doesn’t get out.

“I don’t know the road that leads to his house, or even if there is one. But I came from there.” She points to a path through the woods. It’s subtle, but Hank can see something of a trail she must have followed on her way out. Likely, she just ran until she hit city pavement, but it’s a start. “Just don’t turn. Just keep going straight, and you should run right into it. It took me a few hours to find the city, and then I spent a few days hiding in the streets. Just…be careful. He’s smarter than you think.”

“Alright, you got it,” Hank replies. He and Connor climb out of the squad car and Hank makes his way over to Nines and Gavin’s vehicle. “Gavin, get out.” He turns and waves Tasha over. The girl finally crawls out of the car and makes her way to the other one. She climbs into the passenger’s seat next to Richard and buckles herself in. “Take her back home. Walk her inside. I want you patrolling the perimeter of her house until I say otherwise, got it?”

Richard glances at Gavin, who shrugs. “Guy seems to have a plan of action. I say go with it. But if shit goes sideways, you call.”

“The same goes to you,” Richard responds firmly. “You have no idea if this man is still here, or where else he might be lurking. Get the clues you need and _get out_.”

Gavin and Richard hesitate for a moment, before Gavin claps the hood of the car and turns to face Hank and Connor once more. “Alright…we doing this or what?”

The woods would have an air of serenity about them if not for the fact that Hank knows some old kidnapper could be lurking in them. The fog, normally peaceful and lingering, just feels like a threat now, like camouflage of convenience. Hank doesn’t like it the instant they’re in it.

“Stay close,” he orders to the other two detectives.

“Roger,” Connor replies. Behind him, Gavin just nods. They’ve all got their weapons out and are trudging through the woods cautiously.

It’s just a straight shot. They just have to keep going straight. It’s been weeks since Tasha made her escape, so her footprints have long-since been washed away by rain and other animal tracks. That in mind, all they have to rely on is her instructions. Just keep going straight.

Every crack of the branches beneath Hank’s shoes makes him nervous. He’s done drug busts before. He’s arrested murderers. He’s handled just about every kind of case, but this one is different. This man had escaped them once before and gotten a dozen people killed in the process. There’s no telling how this is going to go.

Connor moves to walk alongside Hank, with Gavin taking his six. Hank glances over in time to see Connor’s LED flicker yellow for a moment.

“I have a house on the GPS signal,” he informs. “A mile and a half out. There’s a dirt road that connects to it. We should go back and get the car, just in case we need to make an arrest or a quick escape.”

“No,” Hank argues calmly as they keep walking. “If we do that, we put ourselves on the map. We just need to be careful and quiet.”

“There could be people in there,” Gavin interjects. “You know, his victims. We could get them out, but we’ll need a vehicle.”

Hank ponders this for a moment, before he turns his focus to Connor. “Send the coordinates of the house to the precinct. Request Chris for backup. Make sure he comes protected.”

“Understood.” Another flickering yellow LED later, and Connor is back on the trail. “Let’s just be careful.”

The mile and a half is quite a walk in the woods. Hank wonders how Tasha managed to survive it in the state she had been in during her escape. She had likely been miserable and exhausted as it was. Most kidnapping victims wound up extremely malnourished and had no idea their whereabouts. They got lucky with finding her, that much is for sure.

The house creeps up on them eventually, though. It’s not a very big house. A classic structure, probably two bedrooms, with a wooden porch that elevates three steps. A porch swing sits on one side of it.

“This house doesn’t even look big enough to have a basement,” Gavin thinks aloud. “A basement is supposed to be some kinda doomsday prep staple. Where the fuck does he keep the kids he takes in? You sure this is the right house?”

Connor shakes his head. “Not entirely. But it’s the only one for miles on the GPS.”

“We’re gonna have to try it,” Hank responds simply, before he starts toward the house. There’s no car in the driveway, but when he gets there, he knocks anyway.

“What about our search warrant?” Gavin questions as they wait.

“I’ve arranged for that already,” Connor replies easily enough.

“I almost always forget to ask,” Hank laughs, “because this little shit beats me to it.”

Gavin just wrinkles his nose. “Well, no one’s here, so let’s get the fuck to it already.”

The door isn’t locked, which has all three officers exchanging cautious glances. Either this place has been picked clean of evidence and abandoned or someone wants them to poke around. It’s difficult to decide how foreboding all of this is exactly.

The inside of the house looks about as normal as it can. The front door opens directly up into the living room, with a hallway at the far left corner and a kitchen to the right. It’s not very large in size, and Hank decides to take advantage of that and hurry up with their search.

Connor is on the same mental track, as he has already started moving about the living room, analyzing evidence left and right. Gavin moves for the kitchen, while Hank decides on going down the hall.

The hallway has three doors—two on the left side and one on the right. Hank tries the first door on the left and finds a bathroom with a walk-in shower. The room is immaculate, but not dusty from lack of presence. The house has either been very recently abandoned, or someone still lives here. Hank does notice that there’s no toothbrush or toothpaste in the medicine cabinet or on the sink, and also that there are no soaps in the shower. All the decorations in the bathroom look as neat as ever, though.

He backs out of the bathroom and moves for the door on the right. It opens up into a bedroom, also immaculate. The bed is neatly made and the curtains in the window are shut. The room is dark until Hank turns a light on and starts searching.

The room boasts a large walk-in closet, and all the owner’s articles still seem to be neatly in order on the hangers inside. It looks as if they still live here, but left briefly. Going by the missing toiletries, they likely only left for a night or two. Hank has no proof that the resident here is their guy, but it’s closer to a lead than they’ve been in a long time.

Hank is in the middle of rifling through bedside drawers when Gavin calls out to him. “Hank! In here!”

The voice is coming from the last room—the one Hank hadn’t yet checked. He follows it into a now open door, which leads into some sort of office. Actually, it’s more like a storage room with a laptop and a desk. Boxes almost entirely fill the room, save for a pathway that leads to the computer. Gavin stands in wait by the desk.

“I’m still not totally convinced our bad guy lives here,” Gavin thinks aloud as Hank moves to stand alongside him, “but if we’re gonna find out, this would be how.” He calls out to Connor this time, and soon enough, all three of them are in the room.

“A laptop,” Connor observes as he moves to approach it. “You think this might have clues on the murderer, I suppose.”

“He’s smart,” Hank points out. “If this is his, he likely cleans up after himself. But if we can get anything—a name, date of birth, a strange e-mail…hell, even a shoddy PayPal purchase, we could trace it.”

Connor nods and lowers his hand to the touchpad. Hank watches his skin recede from his hand, and then turns his gaze up to Connor’s temple as his LED shifts to a rapidly flickering yellow. It takes a solid fifteen or twenty seconds, before Connor steps back and lowers his hand.

“If this is in fact our guy,” Connor voices, crossing his arms, “he keeps his name clean. The name of the man who attacked us at the convention center was David Thatch. The only registered name I can find on this computer is a Harold York. He has a cruise booked on the Seaside Escape to Belize, due to sail out in three days.”

“If he left for it, that explains a lot,” Hank replies with a nod. “A forged name isn’t hard to manage at a convention center, but a cruise line screens everything, so he would have to be sailing under his legal name.”

“That’s assuming we aren’t dealing with two different people,” Gavin points out. “This house looks the polar fucking opposite of what we normally get in cases like this, and I have yet to find a basement full of abducted kids.”

“He could keep them in a different location,” Connor suggests. “Besides, his motive has to do with doomsday preparation. A quick database search tells me that there are Mayan ruins in Belize. Maybe he thinks there are some answers there.”

“That’s a stretch,” Hank responds thoughtfully. “But it’s also all we’ve got. So…we board the ship.”

“It sails in three days,” Gavin reminds.

“Out of New Orleans,” Connor adds. “The registration window has long-since closed, but I may be able to pull some strings for that.”

“Okay, but this is ridiculous,” Gavin argues. “Why not just arrest the guy at the port or meet him in Belize?”

“Too many people,” Hank retorts. “Besides, our last run-in with the guy tells me he’s constantly prepared for the police. On a cruise ship, they watch everything. There won’t be weapons on the boat. We’re free to place him under arrest without any major backlash.”

“And if we’re close to cracking the case,” Connor adds, “Fowler will most certainly give us the green light.”

Gavin doesn’t look convinced. “We could be tracking someone who’s totally innocent right now.”

“Or we could be tracking our bad guy,” Hank bites back. “If it bothers you that damn much, treat it like a vacation. We’re going to Belize, Detective.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

Convincing Fowler to go along with it isn’t easy, but Connor and Richard are both heavily on board with the idea (no pun intended), and taking into account the fact that both androids see some potential merit in the whole thing, the Captain eventually decides to adhere to their request. Of course, he doesn’t do so without reminding Hank about how bad his expense account had looked while on the case involving the Traci androids, and then subsequently reminding the four of them not to go crazy spending money on the ship unless it’s their own.

But they score their trip, and the next thing either of them know, they’re sitting in airplane seats for a red eye flight to New Orleans.

Connor has the window seat, with Hank next to him and Gavin and Richard in the two seats in front of them. He seems distracted, staring out the window, as the plane taxis out before liftoff. Hank can’t see his LED from this side, but he has a feeling it’s yellow.

“This is your first time in an airplane, huh?” Hank realizes aloud, and Connor turns his head to regard him. His LED is indeed yellow.

“It is,” Connor replies easily enough. “But the plane’s engines all seem to be operational, so I’m not worried.”

Right. Because Connor can analyze this kind of stuff without even trying. Hank wasn’t worried to start with, but it’s a comfort to know that their flight is going to go safely. “You were worried?” he questions despite that reassurance.

“A bit,” Connor replies, as his LED circles back to blue. “My stress level is a few percent higher than normal, which I believe would indicate apprehension.”

For Connor, deviancy is a lot more challenging to understand than for other androids. Everything is so very technical to him, even after recognizing his own borderline human qualities. But every day, he learns more and more about himself, and Hank can’t help but feel some relief at that.

Getting to witness such growth is an added bonus.

“I get that way too, a little,” Hank replies gruffly. “When the plane speeds up and it’s just about to take flight, I’m always afraid the fuckin' thing’s gonna lose control and spin out or some shit. You go a hundred in a car and you’re gonna disintegrate if you lose control, so it makes sense to be more afraid of it happening in a giant hundred-ton screaming metal deathtrap, right?”

Connor seems to be reviewing the words in his head a little, before he smiles over at Hank. “No worries, Lieutenant. Planes are made to be aerodynamic. They retain control at high speeds much better than a car would.”

Hank scoffs. Maybe he hadn’t been reassuring enough. Either way, the pilot radios over there for the flight attendants to prepare for liftoff, and Hank turns a firm stare to Connor.

“You’re letting me buy a drink on this plane. One won’t kill me.”

In front of them, Richard casts something of a facetious grin to Gavin, who wrinkles his nose at him. “You have my permission to buy a drink for yourself as well, Detective.”

Gavin shoves him. “Fuck off!”


	2. Chapter 2

All cruise ships are relatively large in size, but now that Hank is on the Seaside Escape, he feels like he’s just one tiny part of a very big picture. The ship is fifteen floors, inhabited by thousands of people, and just after setting sail, it’s alive. People swarm about the area, and the Lido deck is filled with music and dancing. Understandably, though, because this is supposed to be a pleasure cruise. People are supposed to be having fun. The last thing on their mind should be the potential serial killer-slash-kidnapper walking about on the ship.

But Hank has also concluded that he was right to make the decision to board the ship. The boarding process was intense as hell. Pictures were taken, IDs and passports were heavily reviewed, security scans were made. Your ID card is directly connected to a picture of your face, which is how staff onboard determines that you’re not using someone else’s. On top of that, nobody suspects anything, and it’s far too busy for a man to pull any crazy stunts on board. They should have plenty of time to track him down before they get to Belize and get him behind bars.

They’ve been granted certain permissions thanks to the DPD, and even though they aren’t allowed on the ship with weapons, they can enlist in help from security staff onboard when it comes time to make the arrest.

That is…after they find the guy. Which is the obvious downside to being on a cruise ship. There are thousands of people, hundreds of activities, with countless locations. They could find him lounging at a night bar or he could be hiding away in his stateroom the entire time. Tracking him down is going to be one hell of a task, and he happens to know what Connor and Hank look like, which could exacerbate the issue a good deal.

But they’re on the trail again. After three weeks, they’re back down to tracking this guy, and so long as they don’t go too crazy, they’ve also got something of a vacation on their hands.

An hour after embarking, Hank finds Gavin at the front of the ship, his head hanging over the rail on one of the lower decks. He looks positively green with seasickness, lounging in the only smoking area with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Hank doesn’t imagine it’ll be there for long if he’s as sick as he looks.

“I told you you needed to take something before you got on the ship,” Hank chides softly as he removes a box of sea bands from his pocket and passes it over. Gavin glares at it like it’s on fire, but takes it anyway. He grits his teeth around his cigarette as he unboxes the bands and slides them onto his wrists. Hank holds out a hand, wrist-up, to show him how to wear it. “You want the little bead right here. It’s not gonna work immediately, but maybe you won’t be pukin’ your guts up the whole goddamn time.”

Despite the fact that he’s currently sporting the bands on both wrists, Gavin doesn’t look convinced. “You’re telling me a couple of bracelets are supposed to cure my seasickness?”

Hank just shrugs. “It’s a pressure point thing. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

Gavin shakes his head in response, before he turns his focus out to the water and groans a little. He takes one last puff on his cigarette and then deposits the butt into a receptacle right next to him. “God must have pissed himself laughing the first time he saw that humans were gonna try and cross the ocean.”

“I mean,” Hank scoffs in amusement, “he _does_ seem to have a pretty sick sense of humor. Wouldn’t put it past the fucker.”

Gavin shrugs, before he stares back out at the water. He rights himself somewhat and props his elbows up on the guardrail. The water is still murky brown from where they departed, and New Orleans can still be seen in the distance. Soon enough, though, the sea will be endless. Hank has never been on a cruise before, and from the looks of it, neither has Gavin.

“Do you really think we’re gonna be able to track this guy down through all this mess?” Gavin questions bluntly, though his voice isn’t harsh or irritated. It’s more just a thought than anything.

Hank just shrugs. “Not if you keep looking like you’re gonna yark the whole time.”

Gavin grunts out something like a ‘fuck you’, before Richard suddenly joins them on deck. He extends a box toward Gavin, along with a glass of water.

“The Dramamine you asked for, Detective,” he explains. “Fair warning, though, drowsiness is a side effect—”

“—do I look like I give a shit about drowsiness?” Gavin snaps in retort, taking the proffered items. “Side effects from Dramamine are _not_ throwing your guts up, which is what I’m worried about right now.”

Hank and Richard’s eyes meet, before Richard raises both eyebrows and calmly folds his hands behind his back. “Whatever you say, Detective. You’re welcome to sleep your life away while Connor, the Lieutenant, and myself save the day.”

Gavin looks like he has all kinds of retorts planned, but he drops them in favor of swallowing two of the pills he’d been given. He stuffs the rest into his pocket and sets the water aside, before he resumes leaning over the rail. “Just leave me alone until this shit kicks in.”

Hank and Richard both shrug, before they decide among themselves to look about the ship. They stroll along the length of the smoking deck, toward the doors that lead to the elevator. It’s as they’re making their way inside that Richard speaks up.

“Detective Reed regards you coldly,” Richard observes aloud. “Do the two of you have some sort of history?”

Hank pauses before answering. “Doesn’t he act the same way toward you?”

“He’s unfriendly for the most part,” Richard replies as they step onto the elevator, “but he’s not cold. We’ve been working together long enough for the both of us to establish…something of a friendly rapport between one another.”

“Really?” Hank knows he looks genuinely surprised. “Because with how nasty he is to you, you’d think he couldn’t stand you.”

“It’s quite the contrary, actually,” Richard says, amusement in his own voice. “Not so much that I can’t stand him, but that I loathed him for a much longer time than he loathed me. He was absolutely incorrigible for the longest time, but when he started to warm up to me in his own way, I’m happy to conclude that everything fell into place afterward.”

Hank cocks an eyebrow. “What do you consider ‘in his own way’?”

“For starters,” Nines almost laughs as he replies, “not demanding coffee from me as if I’m his servant. He retrieves his own, and if he doesn’t, I’ll go fix him a cup. Get past minor differences like that, and it’s easier to focus on work. He initially appeared to me as the type of character to get lost in his own attitude and think recklessly on the field, but he’s actually quite capable.”

“He is,” Hank agrees. “He does jump to conclusions, but when you’re in a pinch, he’s your guy.”

“This is very true.” Richard nods, stepping out of the elevator when it reaches Atrium deck. “Have you partnered with him before?”

“Oh yeah,” Hank replies. “Plenty of times. He’s not too crazy about working with me, though.” The look of perplexity on Richard’s face is somewhat relieving to Hank. It tells him that Gavin doesn’t go around bitching about all his problems with Hank to everyone else. He never meant to end up being the guy’s enemy. “I’ll let him tell you the details as to why if he ever thinks it’s necessary, but we have closed our fair share of cases.”

Richard doesn’t seem compelled to push the issue. Unlike Connor was initially, though, he doesn’t tend to push for information. Chances were, Connor himself was so stubborn about it because he had a case to solve, assigned to him more by Cyberlife than the DPD at the time. It’s difficult to know for sure, though, because Connor and Hank have gotten significantly closer following the revolution. They’re, well, the best of friends. Hank is happy to be able to say this.

He hasn’t had a genuinely close friend in years. For the most part, he did that to himself after Cole died. It had been so much easier to be a solitary creature at the time. He didn’t want to do anything other than be alone and hate his life. Parents don’t often recover from the loss of a child. Hank had almost lost himself in the mix.

He shakes the thought away as they stroll through the deck. On the atrium deck are a handful of theaters, a few bars, and several different shops. Hank’s not allowed to put anything he spends on this ship on his expense account, so his wallet hurts looking at all the different coffee flavors and alcoholic beverages he can enjoy on the ship, but he’s genuinely thinking about enjoying his time here. They’re not going to find the perp on the first day, but—

“We can’t get too distracted,” Richard comments, as if reading his mind. “If we’re going to catch this man before we reach Belize, we’re going to have to begin our investigation immediately.”

Hank frowns deeply, glancing over at Richard with obvious disdain all over his face.

“This is a nice change,” Connor speaks up from nearby. Hank hadn’t realized the other android had caught up to them, but it’s almost a relief to hear his voice. “You’re excited about being on the ship, aren’t you?”

Hank wrinkles his nose at Connor, before he nods his head and lets out a grunt. “When’s the last time I took a vacation? It’s been fuckin’ _years_, Connor. I need this as much as we need to get our guy.”

“Well, Richard is correct in suggesting we hurry,” Connor points out easily enough. “But once we’ve got our perp, you get to enjoy yourself all you want. In Belize, on the beach, a margarita in each hand…on the cruise back to New Orleans…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank groans, “you got your point across. Find the guy, vacation later.”

“Where’s Detective Reed?” Connor questions as they walk. Hank can see him scanning the area. He no doubt has a carbon copy of their attacker’s appearance logged in his database somewhere after the man nearly took his life before.

“Probably throwing up Dramamine around now,” Hank muses around a laugh.

“On Deck Six,” Nines clarifies. “He’ll be down for some time, but we shouldn’t let that affect our search any.”

Connor ponders the words for a moment, before he seems content with the response and gestures further down the expanse of the ship. “Hank, you recall what our guy looks like, correct?”

“Yep,” Hank replies easily.

“Good.” Connor turns his focus to Richard. “I’ll send you an image of him. I suggest we split up and search as early as possible. People are all over the place right now—he may deem it a better time to be out and about.”

“He probably doesn’t know we’re searching for him just yet,” Hank adds. “Unless he spotted us during check-in.”

“That’s unlikely, but not impossible,” Connor agrees. “But the most we can do right now is keep searching while we’ve got him confined to the ship. Even if he’s hiding in his stateroom, if we can come up with one piece of incriminating evidence against him, we may be able to have the staff let us into his room and place him under arrest.”

“Also unlikely,” Richard joins in. “The man who attacked you all at the convention center had been going by a different name.”

“But you have pictures of him, right?” Hank wonders aloud. “What pictures did you take, Connor?”

Connor raises a hand to his chin in thought. “I lost some during my repairs, but I have images of him before everything went sideways at the convention center. I’ll undoubtedly be able to spot him, but proving that he’s not just a similar-looking person may be a challenge.”

“It would be easier if we were in Detroit,” Richard realizes as he joins in. “We would be able to take him in and question him. It may be more complicated than that here.”

“Not to mention we’re going to be out of the States, soon,” Hank points out. “International laws are dicey.”

“When Fowler got us a spot on the ship, he probably cleared us to arrest him so long as we can prove he’s the one,” Connor responds. “But before we can take him into custody, we’re going to have to run it across the staff on the ship.”

Hank lets out a long sigh. “Whatever. Let’s just focus on finding the guy. Don’t do anything too drastic if you happen to spot him—we don’t wanna deal with any assault charges if circumstances are different here.” Admittedly, he probably should have thought that part through before boarding the ship, but it’s not like he can do anything about it now.

“Alright,” Richard nods, “I’ll take the Lido and Promenade decks.” He gestures above him.

“I’ll explore the lower levels,” Connor decides. “Maybe I can locate his stateroom.”

Hank offers a nod of his own. “Alright—that leaves me with this deck and the casino deck. I find Gavin, I’ll get him to help you out,” he nods to Richard, “since it’s busy as fuck up there.”

“Understood,” Richard responds. “Let’s split up.”

As expected, the ship is far too big to locate any one particular person. Hell, Hank imagines that finding Connor or Richard or Gavin is going to be a test of patience when it comes to reuniting with them. There are too many faces with too many similar features. And when Hank spots someone who he thinks might come close to matching his memory, he ends up cut off by families and other crowds strolling along the ship. It’s just too much.

Frustrated, Hank settles on taking a seat at a coffee bar not far from the casino. He has yet to explore that area, but he’s getting there. He’s just got to work himself back up to it. He orders half a cup of coffee with whipped cream filling the other half and sucks away at the cream while he ponders the best approach.

It seems a little stereotypical that the criminal would be hiding in a smoke-infested casino, but at the same time, Hank’s desperate and already tired of searching for the guy. He just wants to track him down and then actually enjoy the rest of his vacation.

He’s not ready for someone to speak up next to him.

“You’re going to shock your system when you finally get to the coffee,” the voice says. He glances over to see a man sitting next to him. An android, judging by the LED on his temple. He sports a uniform Hank recognizes belongs to casino staff. The nametag reads ‘Nate’. Hank cocks his head. What spurred this person to talk to him?

“That’s the goal,” Hank answers noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders. “I want something to snap me into focus right away.”

The apparent Nate frowns a little, tipping his own head to the side. “Why would you want something like that?”

Right. Because Hank isn’t supposed to be announcing to the entire rest of the ship that he’s seeking out a criminal mastermind. There may be an off-chance that staff members are aware of cops on the ship and what they’re here for, but in the end, they’re trying to avoid panic. This Nate likely knows nothing. He’s probably just trying to start friendly conversation.

“If I’m gonna spend the next hour in there blowin’ my money,” he gestures to the nearby casino, where the loud slot machines can be heard from this distance, “I wanna be focused. Gotta pay attention to what I’m betting, y’know?”

“I do,” Nate responds warmly, resting his elbow on the bar of the coffee shop. “I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve sat and watched someone mindlessly repeat their bets and play any winnings they might have had right back down to zero. Tell me, what’s your poison? Dollar machines? Quarter machines?”

Hank scoffs. “I’m too broke for that shit. Penny machines, and I only up my bet if I’m actually winning.”

“Ah, I see.” Nate laughs a little. “Try the group of machines in the back corner. They’re not as new as the others, so less people play on them.”

Hank raises both eyebrows. “Huh. Thanks, uh…Nate.”

“Of course, Mister…”

“Anderson,” Hank replies as he raises his drink to his lips once more. “Hank Anderson. You’re not gonna get yourself fired over this, are you?”

“I doubt it,” Nate replies, before his eyes widen in realization. “Oh! I was sent over here by your friend!” He gestures to a series of booth seats across the pathway from them, where Gavin can be seen slouching. He doesn’t look much less green than he had out on the deck, but at least he’s indoors now. “He may need your help getting back to his room. Don’t suppose you could manage that before you take your spin on the machines?”

Hank just shrugs. In all honesty, he’s got no intention of gambling seriously just yet. He’ll probably just stick to minimum bet and tap away at the buttons while he looks around. Nothing he can’t do fifteen minutes later than planned. And Gavin _does_ look pretty bad…

“Yeah, I gotcha. Thanks again, kid.” He holds out a ten-dollar bill. “For your troubles, since I imagine he didn’t tip you.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Nate replies with another smile, “but we don’t handle cash on the ship. If you wish to tip me, buy a drink from me at the casino, okay?”

Hank laughs. “You got it. Keep an eye out for me then, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Hank waves Nate off, before he stands up and strolls toward the place where Gavin is seated. Gavin looks up at him and groans out loud.

“This is fuckin’ miserable…”

Hank scoffs almost sympathetically, before he tosses his drink in the trash and folds his arms over his chest. “Have you thrown up yet?”

“No,” Gavin shakes his head. “Trying real goddamn hard not to. I want the meds to actually work, y’know?”

Hank nods. “I knew we should’ve done the patch. Maybe you just gotta sleep it off or something.”

Gavin doesn’t look like he likes that response, but he nods in agreement, and when Hank leans forward to offer him a hand, he takes it. Hank throws an arm around Gavin’s shoulders and starts to guide him toward the elevators.

He honestly doesn’t mind this. This is the most friendly Gavin has been with him in a very long time. Hank doesn’t like that it has to do with the fact that Gavin is at war with seasickness, but he can’t very well push the issue. Instead, he revels in the fact that Gavin doesn’t protest once they get onto the elevator. He doubles back and leans against the wall as the machine drops down to the floor where their stateroom is.

“Any progress?” He questions, all business. Hank knows without asking that Gavin wishes he was in the fray of it with them instead of wanting to throw his guts up, but he doesn’t say that.

“Nope,” Hank shakes his head. “I haven’t seen shit on this crowded ship, but it’s only been a handful of hours. Connor and Nines may have a different story, though.”

Gavin laughs sardonically and glares at the wall to his right. “Sucks. Fucking androids are gonna find this guy before we even have the chance to.”

Hank doesn’t think Gavin means it as coldly as he’s saying it. He’s not trying to punch anyone or pointing a gun like he had back when he actually hated them. He’s just frustrated because he can’t do his job in his current state. That in mind, Hank shrugs.

“I doubt it. We picked one helluva ball field hunting this guy down on the ship.”

Gavin rolls his eyes, and then groans aloud, probably immediately regretting the gesture and the vertigo that likely came with it. “It was your idea.”

“I know it was, and I stand by it.” Hank isn’t offended. He’s not a patient man, but he’s grown a little less impatient following the revolution. Life isn’t as hard as it was before. The sting of losing Cole is numbed somewhat by the presence of a certain android who comes over to give his dog attention on the daily. “We have him confined to one location…albeit a fuckin’ huge location, but still.”

Gavin doesn’t seem compelled to argue with that. “Just means we got our hands full, I guess.”

“That’s no goddamn lie,” Hank agrees. As the elevator doors open, he leads Gavin out onto their floor and toward their staterooms. Gavin and Richard share a room, while Hank and Connor share another. Gavin unlocks his door when he gets there and sheds his jacket instantly once he enters the room. Hank stands in the doorway.

Gavin raises an eyebrow as he moves to unbuckle his belt. He pivots and eyes Hank almost impatiently. “You gonna watch me strip, or are you gonna leave me alone so I can sleep?”

Hank shrugs. “Just wanted to make sure you made it to your bed okay.”

“I’m not dying,” Gavin reminds gruffly. “I can walk.”

Hank rolls his eyes. “And I got an idea. You’re takin’ it pretty hard that you’re down and out right now, aren’t you?”

Gavin scowls. “The fuck I am. I’ll be fine after a nap.”

“Either way,” Hank continues, trying his best to brush off the harsh tone to his partner’s voice, “you can search the place at night. Connor and Richard will probably need your help while I’m passed the fuck out at bedtime like a normal human.”

Gavin pauses. “You think that guy’s not a normal human, too? He’s probably gonna be asleep tonight as well.”

“Alright, two things,” Hank replies there, raising one finger. “First, the guy’s a kidnapper and a goddamn murderer—definitely not a normal human.”

“Not the point,” Gavin retorts irritably.

“Second,” Hank continues despite that response, “There are all kinds of people on this ship. Our guy may be audacious enough to go out lookin’ for more people to take home with him as we speak. You got young little things out here partying all night. There’s still a chance he’ll be out late.”

“What the fuck ever.” Gavin rolls his eyes this time, shrugging his shirt off. “Just go away so I can sleep.” With that, he shoves his pants down, leaving himself in just his boxer briefs. Hank tenses and spins in the other direction right away.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” He exclaims, slamming the door behind him.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Not unexpectedly, the first evening of digging around turns up nothing. This ship carries thousands of people, not counting staff, so Hank and Connor and Richard have been wading through thousands of people and coming up empty. Even the casino seems to boast nothing particularly damning for their investigation. Hank gets a few friendly visits from Nate, though, and makes sure to tip him as promised. He doesn’t win shit on the slots.

Now, he’s outside at a table on the Lido deck, enjoying a frozen yogurt cone (fuckers are free and unlimited on this cruise, which Hank swears is going to be the best and worst thing in his life simultaneously), while he stews over what to do next. The side of the deck he’s on is relatively quiet, save for the couple making out aggressively against a nearby wall, but if Hank tunes out the noises, he can almost focus on deciding what to do next with his investigation.

Really, there’s not much else he can do. The four of them are going to be stuck wandering aimlessly about the ship until they either get lucky and come across the guy or happen to find a clue. Hank still thinks it was a good idea to hunt him down while they’ve got him confined to one structure, but it’s proving much more easily said than done. The fact that they can’t just march up to administration and ask for the guy’s stateroom is only more frustrating.

That had been Fowler’s main request, aside from insisting they keep spending limited to whatever comes out of their own pockets rather than their expense accounts. He had simply told them that they were to treat this like a normal cruise until they were absolutely certain they had the guy in their grasp. That means no chasing him down the halls and causing an uproar, and no flashing their badges every which way, because maritime laws are a lot different than the ones in the States.

Which means they can’t just waltz up to the desk like Hank wants to and request to take the guy into custody. At the same time, he gets it. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Fowler, it’s that the good Captain has pulled many, _many_ strings to help Hank with his investigations. In the end, he wants what’s best for his staff and the people involved in the search. But he had probably had to spend hours jumping through legal hoops just to get them on the ship, and these are likely the conditions were lined out. It’s because of the simple fact that they had been led to a house, investigated it, and found nothing other than an online receipt for a cruise. They’ve got no proof that Harold York is the guy, so they’ve got to keep everything on the down-low until they’re sure.

But that doesn’t make things less difficult, so Hank is understandably irritated.

“Could you take your business elsewhere, please?”

Hank glances up from his half-eaten dessert just in time to see Connor approach the kissing couple nearby. He’s smiling politely at them, even though they both look like he just insulted them. Connor takes no offense to it and simply continues, “Your stateroom is ideal. Just be sure to wrap it before you tap it!”

Hank bursts out laughing as Connor joins him at the table. Every now and then, Connor will surprise him with things like this. His knowledge of the world around him—slang included, apparently—grows every single day. He always finds the perfect times to use said knowledge, too.

“It’s so nice out here,” Connor comments. “We’ve gotten so far out now that the water is all we can see. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and I enjoy that.”

Hank raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Huh, come to think of it, this is your first vacation, isn’t it?”

Connor’s LED flickers yellow for a moment, before shifting back to blue. He laughs softly in realization. “I suppose it is. If you want to factor out the investigation, of course.”

“You knew what I meant,” Hank chides, and Connor nods his head in agreement.

“I do. It’s…pleasant. I’m relieved we’re going to be at this for five days.” Connor seems lost in thought for a moment, before he continues speaking. “You know…deviancy doesn’t feel a lot different from being a machine.”

Hank frowns deeply. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Connor starts thoughtfully, “regardless of whether I’m making my own choices or running on a program, there are a lot of things that I’m still hard-wired to do. I’m still protecting humans, and I’m still working to accomplish my mission. It just so happens that the ones I’m tracking down now aren’t always androids.”

Hank quite honestly doesn’t know much about androids. Before Connor, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with them. He’d never owned one, and he’d never done much more than speaking a few words to the androids that helped out at the DPD or in shops around Detroit. But even despite all that, he knows that deviancy affects a lot of androids more differently than it does Connor, who was quite literally programmed against it.

“So this is something of a pleasant change,” Connor continues, pulling Hank out of his thoughts.

“You get to choose for yourself, though,” Hank reminds him, almost a little saddened by the words. It somewhat bothers him that Connor doesn’t seem as beaten up about it as Hank himself is. “You get to be happy about things, and afraid of other things. You get to wear whatever clothes you want to and you’re basically one of the guys just like all of us at the station now.”

“I’m aware,” Connor replies warmly, still smiling. “I know that I have my own freedom of choice, and that I get to find pleasure in things. I know that I’m alive, Hank. I promise you that much.” He turns his gaze out toward the horizon. Beyond the ship, it’s pitch black. The ocean is all that can be seen. “But to be honest, I haven’t felt the compulsion to explore any of that. I’m perfectly content where I am. That may not always be the case in the future, as I begin to adjust to who I am now, but right now, I’m okay with it. Despite that, this cruise is…entertaining.” He turns a bright smile toward Hank once more. “There are a lot of androids boarding this ship as passengers. They’re having a lot of fun. I like seeing that. Markus and the rest of Jericho will be happy to hear it when I tell them.”

Hank can’t help but smile there. “Fair enough. And once we get this guy, you’ll be able to enjoy yourself completely with them. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds to me like you’re not as hardboiled and eccentric as I once labeled you to be,” Connor jabs lightly, and Hank resists the urge to kick him under the table.

“You shut up with that shit,” Hank grunts in response. He pauses for a moment, before he turns his attention back up to Connor. “Have you heard from Gavin?”

“Not directly,” Connor replies. “Richard is tending to him, but he seems to be doing better. There’s talk of the two of them continuing the mission overnight. I plan on doing so, myself, but you should get some rest.”

Hank frowns at him. “What are you, my home health aide?”

“Just a friend,” Connor replies, which Hank notices sounds starkly different coming from him than the Connor he’d first met before, who would have easily explained that he was an investigative android. He’s not sure if he feels glad to know that Connor is learning more about the world around him or disappointed that that weird, early ignorance seems to be fading.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank waves him off, before he finishes the rest of his frozen yogurt cone and moves to stand up. “I was planning on it anyway. If Gavin’s gonna be taking night shift on this, I’d like to be able to handle days. I think I need some time to sleep on it and decide what I’m gonna do, too.”

“That’s a good idea,” Connor agrees, before he too stands up. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

Hank scoffs a little, but he doesn’t protest. “Whatever you say.” He tucks his hands into his pockets and starts toward the indoor part of the Lido deck, where the elevators await. “Oh…and Connor?”

Connor doesn’t verbally respond, though he does cock his head, eyeing Hank as if to say ‘hmm?’

Hank just smiles and turns his focus ahead. “Don’t spend your whole night working. Stand out here and look at the water for a little bit if you like it so much. You deserve it.”

The near-flustered look of bewilderment on Connor’s face that follows is worth the early-ish bedtime.

\--- --- --- --- ---

_“You’ve gotta get him to Cyberlife!” Hank’s voice is desperate. Connor’s bold move to protect him from injury has resulted in a likely fatal series of gunshot wounds for the android himself. There’s so much blue, all mingled around the sea of red. People are everywhere, cops trying to clear the area, paramedics rushing in. _

_But what’s going to happen to Connor? Androids are acknowledged legally as living beings now, but that doesn’t mean Cyberlife can do anything about him. Cyberlife is still coming together again as an organization, and it’s not entirely in agreement of the new legal terms brought about following the revolution. _

_“We’re gonna get him help, Lieutenant,” Chris tells him from nearby, but the words sound like they’re being muffled. Like Hank is sitting with his head in a fishbowl. His ears are ringing. Connor is unresponsive as they load him onto a stretcher and he disappears out of the room. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” _

_Hank swears as he’s being helped out of the building that this man is going to pay for what he did. Him and all his cronies._

\--- --- --- --- ---

Hank can’t sleep. Once he’s alone in his stateroom, his mind is going a mile a minute. He recalls swearing to make Connor’s assailant pay—to get him behind bars—but then he also remembers deciding against even pursuing him anymore after all that had happened, for fear that if Connor does survive, he might put himself in danger again.

Hank Anderson hasn’t exactly spent the past ten years of his life making friends and forming long-standing relationships with anyone. He doesn’t go getting attached to people, and he certainly doesn’t enjoy his time around more than just his dog and his music and sports on television. The closest to a social life he tends to get is at bars, listening to others talk while he drinks away what’s left of his life.

So maybe he’s not used to being so attached to someone again as he is Connor. Having a friend who would literally throw their life out to save him is absolutely crippling to someone as weak-minded as Hank. A man who had spent years of his life contemplating suicide, killing himself slowly on alcohol, doesn’t quite know what to do when he’s got someone so loyal in Connor.

Which is why he’d abandoned a case. Why he’d argued with Fowler when put on the case again. Why he’s lying in his bed right now, dwelling on whether or not something bad is going to happen while he’s asleep. It can’t possibly go wrong, right? There are no weapons at the guy’s disposal, unless he’s particularly accurate with the pointed end of a fork or a butter knife. But surely, he wouldn’t try and get in a scuffle with someone on the middle of a cruise ship…

Hank groans in frustration and reaches for the TV remote, turning on the screen. It lights up immediately, with a late-night animated comedy blasting on the screen. The content isn’t all that funny, but Hank needs a distraction.

Mind you, distraction isn’t what he gets. He only catches himself thinking about it more, his head spinning with frustration. Even the gentle sway of the ship does nothing to soothe his taut nerves.

So he attempts a shower. The heat and the steam is nice, but once he’s confined to the tiny little stall of a stateroom shower, Hank realizes he feels even worse. He’s wasting time in here, lying around, while Connor and Gavin and Richard are out on a manhunt.

God…rest be damned, Hank can’t handle to be in here any longer. This is going to be one hell of a search. It’s been a long time since he last pulled an all-nighter, but he’s not getting any sleep in his current state anyway, right?

He washes up quickly and slips into a fresh set of clothes, before he snatches up his stateroom key and heads out into the hallway.

Where is he even going to search to start with? Does he need to find Connor, or does he need to just look for the guy himself? Nip it in the bud, before this guy manages to get his hands on Connor or Nines or Gavin? Avoid trouble right off the bat.

He supposes he could try the casino again. With the evening shifting quickly into overnight, most of the festivities on Lido deck are dying down and the ship is starting to go to sleep. Undoubtedly, Connor and Richard and Gavin are out exploring the rest of the ship, and since Hank has already checked the casino, they’re probably not prioritizing it.

Yeah…he can just take one quick look, and then he’ll go regroup with everyone else.

Funny, how exhaustion seems to settle in once you’re far away from a bed. The minute Hank is back down at a penny machine in the corner of the casino, his eyelids grow heavy. He knows, however, that if he goes back to his stateroom, his mind is only going to wake up all over again, so he fights it for now. Decides to order a coffee instead of a drink when a young female staff member approaches. He tips her and offers her his thanks, before he starts in on his machine, glancing around in between spins.

Despite being so attentive to the rest of the casino, Hank isn’t ready for a familiar voice.

“You’re out late.”

He turns his focus to Nate, who is standing a few feet away, watching him play. The android has a calm smile on his face, his hands folded behind his back. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Nah, no, you’re fine.” Hank shakes his head. “I just couldn’t sleep, so I came back out here to blow money like a goddamned idiot.”

Nate chuckles somewhat. “You could always go out on deck and watch the water. It’s beautiful this time of night, while the moon is still high up in the sky.”

“Yeah?” Hank had intended to spend a short amount of time out there anyway, and a little fresh air sounds great. Plus, he’s still got to find the others and decide what their next step is. Maybe asking around—finding out if anyone’s been getting confronted by some guy with the same intentions as how he handled Tasha and the other victims back in Detroit. “I may have to do that, actually. The smoke in here is killin’ me…”

“That’s a good idea,” Nate agrees, taking Hank’s empty coffee cup from him. “The ocean is a rare view, too. It almost gives off the illusion that everything is okay.”

“I…guess?” Hank finds himself halfway agreeing.

Nate just continues speaking, almost robotically. “Out here, you don’t see many of the signs that the planet is suffering. Humans are destroying the earth, but out at sea, you don’t see any of the damage. No sinkholes from fracking, no thick, unbreathable air…”

Hank freezes. Wait a minute…hadn’t Tasha said her attacker had been going on about shit like this? He suddenly turns a very wary gaze toward Nate.

“When the world ends, nobody is going to be ready. Out here, you can almost delude yourself that it’s not going to happen.” Nate is giving off a very uncomfortable vibe all of a sudden—one that makes Hank fight down a shiver. He suddenly doesn’t feel safe at all. It’s almost as if Connor isn’t the one he should be worried about anymore. As if Nate has been watching him this entire time.

“So maybe a little fresh air isn’t a bad idea,” Nate finishes off, his smile resuming its normal polite manner.

In the least comfortable way possible, Hank suddenly realizes he has his first lead since boarding the Seaside Escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was supposed to be a two-part series, but I was faced with a choice once I really got to writing this thing. It was either write a 15k-word second chapter that made things feel a little too rushed or separate it into three chapters to give the entire work balance. To be honest, I'm excited about the last chapter, so it won't take long to be published.
> 
> No promises on whether or not I end up making it longer, but for now, here's to hoping it stays at three lmfao
> 
> I swear I'm gonna be fucked the day someone requests I write something UNDER a certain word count
> 
> A big thanks again to those who are reading this work and leaving feedback/kudos/bookmarks, and especially to the one who requested it! I love y'all so much!


	3. Chapter 3

How had Hank not seen this coming? Looking back, he feels like a goddamned idiot.

Nate had approached him out of the blue and started conversation. Everyone else had either been too wrapped up in their work or too busy talking to other passengers. Nate, who had been working at the casino, had found Hank at the coffee shop, and had confronted him. Nate had essentially been keeping an eye on him. Which, if everything is really shaping up the way Hank thinks it is, implies that their culprit is indeed on this ship.

And he’s aware of the officers tracking him down.

There are no weapons allowed on the ship, and yet Hank feels more nervous than he can stand. He’s got to find the others. He’s got to warn them. But if he lets Nate go…

Damn it…what’s the best course of action?

Hank thinks deeply for a moment, before he crosses his arms over his chest and turns his gaze back up to the android. “You wanna join me?”

Nate’s expression almost looks innocent. Maybe it _would_ have looked innocent if he hadn’t just spelled himself out to Hank just moments ago. The worst part is that with wording like that, Hank gets the feeling he knows what he just spelled out, so he knows why he’s being invited out on deck.

“Hank, I can’t,” Nate replies calmly, looking almost apologetic. _Almost._ “I’m working.”

“You guys get breaks, right?” Hank insists calmly, trying to play it off like he hadn’t caught onto the drift Nate had been implying. “So take yours early. You said it yourself—fresh air is nice, especially out in the ocean.”

Nate pauses for the longest of moments, before he tucks both hands into his pockets. “Alright, you win. But if I get into trouble, I expect you’ll be taking the rap for me.”

Hank just shrugs. “Sounds good to me.” He pushes himself into a standing position and gestures for Nate to follow.

Nate knows his way around this ship. It likely wouldn’t be hard for him to direct them somewhere and lock Hank away. Keep him separate from Connor and the others until they get to Belize. Or maybe he’s already let someone else know somehow that they’re being tracked down. Maybe Connor or Richard or Gavin are in trouble…fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

If reality was a snake, it’d have bitten the shit out of Hank by now.

Either way, Hank plays it cool for now, as he directs Nate toward the elevator. He’s grateful when the doors open to see multiple passengers already inside, and he swallows down some of his nerves at that as he pushes the button for the Lido deck. Nate is silent while he rides along not far from Hank. They exit out onto the deck soon after, and into the night sky.

Outside, it’s calm. The breeze can be heard in Hank’s ears, and he picks up the distant sound of the ship rushing along the water. This late at night, it’s not quite as busy as Hank wishes it was, but he’s going to have to work with what he has while he tries to find Connor and the others. If he can just get one more person alongside him to see who he has with him, he’ll feel a little safer. Someone else to identify Nate, until he can tell them what happened in more detail later.

Connor is pretty easy to spot. Frankly, so is Richard. With their goofy haircuts and uniform jackets neither of them feel compelled to part with, they stand out like sore thumbs. But even despite that, none of them seem to be anywhere on deck. Not that it’s any surprise. Connor had said himself he planned on looking about the ship. Even with Hank’s request that he step out and enjoy the water, it doesn’t mean he actually planned on complying. He’s Connor, after all—the master of hyperfixation on whatever task might be his priority at the time. Once he considers it his mission, that’s it. He won’t let it go.

“Are you looking for someone?” Nate questions nearby, and Hank tries not to tense visibly. He turns and faces the android, his expression forcibly calm.

“I, uh, traveled with a few buddies. I was gonna introduce you to them if they were out here. Guess they turned in for the night.” Or they’re out searching on different decks. Connor and Richard most definitely are. Whether Gavin got over his seasickness yet or not is beyond Hank.

“That’s quite alright,” Nate replies easily enough. “Don’t suppose you’d just be willing to introduce us tomorrow? It’s probably time for you to go to sleep for the night, anyway.”

Yeah, fat chance on that one. Hank bites back the urge to scoff. For one, he doesn’t want to let this guy disappear off the radar. He may be a staff member here, but if he’s also working for York, he could probably disappear anyway. It wouldn’t take much. There are so many staff members onboard that Nate probably wouldn’t be noticed for quite some time.

But at the same time, it’s far too suspicious to try and keep him around any longer. Hank supposes he could spend the rest of his night at the casino, but if they do manage to track down this lead tomorrow, he’ll be all-but dead to the world when the time comes. He’s got to think about this reasonably.

“I’m not particularly comfortable staying away from work for too long,” Nate interjects there, his expression apologetic. “I’m heading back now. But feel free to drop by the casino tomorrow afternoon and I’ll meet your friends.”

Hank concedes defeat there and releases a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He flashes Nate a quick wave, before he starts back toward the elevator. Hank thinks that maybe he should feel a little safer now that one of York’s spies is going away from him, but if anything, he just feels even more targeted. At this point, he has no idea who could be watching him or his partners.

This could go sideways at any moment. Hank no longer feels like he has any control over the situation.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night. When Hank returns back to his stateroom, Connor is still out somewhere on the ship. He has no idea where Richard or Gavin are, and Nate’s words serve as a twisted sort of warning to him. He has no idea what’s going to happen next. So, he surrenders to his urges and buys a beer to take back to his stateroom. It gives him just enough inebriation to help him lull himself to sleep, and when morning finally comes, he’s jolted awake enough by anxiety to keep going.

Connor still isn’t in the room. There don’t seem to be any signs that he had ever returned the previous night, either. Hank hopes against hope that it’s because he’d been spending the entire night out conducting a search, and gets dressed quickly, before scrubbing his face and teeth and heading out.

He visits the cafeteria and fixes himself a plate for breakfast, before he heads out onto the Lido deck to eat it. It’s a breezy morning—not too hot, and not too cold. Hank doesn’t know exactly what time it is, but he’s becoming glaringly aware of the fact that the longer they spend, the less time they have before they reach Belize and catch this guy. The cruise is five days, with the ship set to arrive in Belize tomorrow morning. That means they have roughly twenty four hours to do away with their criminal.

Hank’s stomach turns at the thought of that alone, but he takes a bite of his bacon anyway.

“Jesus,” Gavin’s voice surprises Hank, as he takes a seat across from him and plops down to eat, “I never thought I’d be hungry again after yesterday, but this shit looks so good I could eat all fuckin’ morning.”

So Gavin is alright. That’s a relief. Hank breathes out a sigh at that, before he raises an eyebrow at his partner. “You’re feeling better, then.”

“Thank fuck, yeah,” Gavin replies. Hank notices he’s still sporting his sea band bracelets, and he’s probably living on Dramamine, too. Either way, he looks a lot better. “I woke up around midnight last night and spent the whole night on the prowl, though. This bastard’s hard to find, and I’m getting tired again.”

“Actually,” Hank points the corner of a piece of toast in Gavin’s direction, “I may have something about that. Have you seen Connor and Richard?”

Gavin shrugs. “Connor said he was going to look for you. Nines said he thought he might have found something and told me to go eat breakfast and we’d rendezvous after that.”

Hank frowns. “Richard’s on to something?”

“That’s what he said,” Gavin repeats. “Dunno what, though. He didn’t seem too sure at the time. We’ll find out, I suppose.”

“I need all of you here,” Hank groans. “This is important.”

“Don’t bitch me out about it!” Gavin wrinkles his nose as he takes a bite of sausage. “I didn’t pull anyone’s ear and make them go looking around!” Despite that retort, his expression suddenly grows serious. “What’d you find out?”

Hank shakes his head. “We can’t talk about it here. We need a place to regroup.”

“Regroup?”

Connor’s voice is a breath of fresh air after three hypothetical minutes underwater. Hank, after hours spent wondering if something had happened to him, immediately feels a little lighter hearing that voice. He pivots to face Connor just as the android takes a seat next to him. He nods in response to Connor’s words.

“I may have a lead. Have you seen Richard?”

Connor shakes his head. “I can try and locate him, if you’d like.”

“You probably won’t have any luck,” Gavin grunts around a mouthful of breakfast. “He’s off chasing his own lead. Unless you can track his signal or some shit like that.”

“Actually, that’s a good idea,” Hank agrees. “_Can_ you do something like that?”

Connor shakes his head. “If it were that simple, I’d have tracked down our deviants much more easily back when we first became partners.”

Hank frowns. “…Can you…I dunno, message him or something? Tell him we’re at my stateroom?”

“I can do that, yes,” Connor replies. “Is that where we’re going to regroup?”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Hank confirms. “Send him a message and let’s go.” He picks up the rest of his bacon and stands, making his way out toward the elevator. Gavin grunts out some sort of complaint about how he didn’t get to finish his breakfast, but follows along regardless. Soon enough, they’re down in Hank’s and Connor’s shared stateroom. Gavin plops down into the chair next to the small desk area, while Hank and Connor choose the edge of the bed.

“So…yesterday, I was looking around,” Hank starts, explaining what he wanted to talk about. “I was gonna check out the casino, because you know, stereotypical sleaze balls tend to hang out in those in mystery movies—”

“—you know that’s not how it really fuckin’ works, Hank,” Gavin sneers, and Hank glares pointedly at him.

“Take a fucking joke and roll with it, Gavin. In any case,” he cracks his neck, “an android approached me as I stopped at a coffee shop outside of the casino. He called himself Nate, and he made conversation with me. In the casino, he was my waiter. He even suggested a patch of machines for me. Well, last night, I couldn’t fall asleep, so I went back out looking around. Ended up back in the casino, and Nate approached me again. Suggested I go outside and get some fresh air to try and wind down.”

Gavin and Connor exchange glances, as Hank continues. “Now, this may be pure-ass coincidence, but I can’t explain the reason I feel it’s not. Either way, he went on about how the world is drawing to an end, but you can’t tell when you’re at sea. Painted the very same morbid picture about the state of the world that Tasha had said our good Mister York does. Gave me reason to suspect he’s been a mole for the guy. Also gave me reason to suspect he’s got more than one.”

“His followers are on this ship,” Connor realizes aloud. “I hadn’t factored out the possibility, but that doesn’t make the increased chance that it’s a reality any less pressing…”

“Tell me about it,” Hank agrees. “And with less than a day left before the ship makes landfall in Belize, we’ve really got our work cut out for us.”

Connor falls silent for a moment, LED spinning yellow. By the time he returns to focus, both Hank and Gavin are staring at him. He shakes his head. “I relayed all this information to Richard. That way, we’ll all be on the same page when he arrives.”

Hank frowns. It hasn’t been long since they reached the stateroom, but Richard not being here is a little unnerving. He fixes Connor with an uneasy look. “Has he answered your last message?”

Connor hesitates. “…No.”

Hank glances down at his lap. It hasn’t been more than ten or fifteen minutes, and Richard had been busy when everyone else had met up. Perhaps it’s nothing, but Hank is still tense from the events of the night before. Nothing feels okay right now.

For now though, he brushes it off. He stands up and dusts the front of his jeans with his hands. “Connor, tell him to meet us at the casino. I’m going to introduce you all to Nate.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

Early in the morning, the casino is relatively quiet. There’s a section off to the side of the casino where you can peer through the windows and look out at the water, and that’s what most people are here for right now. A few are gathered at the slot machines, but it’s calm for now.

So Nate is easy enough to spot amidst the not-quite crowd. Hank finds him at the bar on the far side of the casino and directs Gavin and Connor up to meet him.

Nate shakes Connor’s hand, and then does the same for Gavin, who doesn’t offer him so much as a smile. Either way, the android smiles politely at him. “We’re properly introduced this time. How are you feeling?”

This, as Hank has learned , is where Gavin is good at his job. His grouchy attitude plays off well in the act of not behaving like a cop. If anything, he’s just a moody Gen-Z kid with too little sleep. Come to think of it, has Gavin slept at all yet? He had said he’d planned on pulling an all-nighter last night…

Either way, Gavin grunts irritably at Nate. “Good enough that the smell of whiskey doesn’t make me crave death. I’ll take a double.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nate responds with a laugh as he gets to work fixing Gavin’s drink. “The smell of whiskey is pretty pungent…”

“The fuck would you know?” Gavin snaps back quickly. “Didn’t think androids possessed a sense of smell.”

“Surprise,” Nate quips back easily, almost playing into Gavin’s attitude. “Though, I suppose you’d be right in saying we don’t necessarily _smell_ things so much as we recognize the contents of an aroma. And whiskey has quite the aroma.”

“Don’t care,” Gavin replies, before he accepts his drink and then draws his attention up at the android. There’s a glint that appears in his eyes that Hank recognizes from sizable handful of times he and Gavin have partnered up together. It’s when he gets determined and decides to push the envelope a little. “What I _am_ curious about, though, is this shit you were telling Hank last night.”

Whoa, whoa, maybe that’s going a little too far? If Hank’s suspicions are correct, then Nate is already on to them. Hank resists the urge to glance over in Connor’s direction, but he imagines Connor feels the same way about it as he does. Either way, they let Gavin keep going.

“Thing is, I don’t believe in that kinda stuff,” Gavin continues easily enough. “People have been saying the world is gonna fall apart or blow up or just stop being habitable for everyone for centuries, and yet, we still have clean water, breathable air, and our food supply has yet to dry up. Hank and I go way back, you know? I’m gonna be pretty pissed if you get my buddy all scared shitless over some invisible murderer bullshit.”

Now, Hank glances over at Connor. They both look pretty confused. As Nate spills out fact after fact to prove where he comes from, Gavin nods along and lets him ramble. Hank assumes Gavin is just trying to get him going again and maybe draw some information from him that way, but…Jesus. Does the guy really think the world isn’t suffering right now?

Either way, after Nate explains that he wasn’t trying to scare anyone—that his intent was honestly just enlightenment as to the situation—Gavin raises both hands in surrender. “I’m not gonna say I believe all that tripe, but it is what it is. Maybe the world’s doomed, but I don’t think we can predict something like the end, so I’m not gonna get all shaken up about it.”

“With all due respect,” Nate responds, almost looking a little pained by the words, “that’s an awful mentality to have. What about any children you might be having in the future? Don’t you want them to stand a chance in this world?”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree with that one,” Gavin retorts, almost amused. “My spawn don’t get any further than a Kleenex and I’m keeping it that way.”

Connor steps in there, deciding now’s probably a good time to cut the conversation short. “You make good points, honestly,” he tries, “and I think about those same issues on a regular basis, but…well, do you have any suggestions for what to do? You seem to know more about this topic than we do.”

Hank thanks his lucky stars for Connor’s interjection, and as he and Gavin back away from the conversation to give Connor some time to discuss it with Nate, he turns his focus to Gavin. “You don’t really believe all that horseshit you said about not thinking the world’s going to hell, do you?”

Gavin scoffs. “I know we treat the earth like shit. I just wanted to see if I could get a rise out of the guy enough to get some sort of response. Like some sort of recruitment suggestion or some shit.”

Hank frowns. “Assuming he’s a follower of our guy, he would target a younger person, don’t you think?”

Gavin’s response is a simple shrug. “His victims are all younger people, but there’s no telling what kind of people his followers are. You wouldn’t expect a bunch of androids to join in his cause, and yet they did.”

Hank nods slowly. “Yeah, okay, you’ve got a point there. In any case, I really only brought you guys here so you could see what he looks like. Get a visual on him just in case.”

There’s a moment where Gavin seems lost in thought, before he peers back up. “Nines still hasn’t shown up. You know I gave him that nickname?”

Hank cocks an eyebrow. “You did? I knew it got around pretty quickly, but I didn’t know it came from you. Sounds like something you’d come up with, though.”

“Only because it’s fuckin’ genius,” Gavin responds proudly, before he turns his gaze toward the distant windows, where the water can vaguely be made out through the glass. “I don’t remember when I first started saying it, but he’s always known it was his name.”

“He must like it, then,” Hank replies with something of a smile on his lips. “Sounds like the two of you are getting along pretty well, then…”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Gavin smirks a little. “Guy’s not half as annoying as your little gremlin.”

“S’cuse me?” Hank gives him a shove.

“You heard me!” Gavin retorts, genuinely laughing this time. “Plus, he’s an upgrade. Can’t get much better than what he’s got.”

Hank opens his mouth to snap back, but Gavin’s expression falls again.

“I know it’s only been like an hour since I last saw him, but he normally checks in with me on this shit.” Gavin genuinely looks worried. “I’m not so sure he’s still out there chasing his lead.”

Conveniently enough, Connor approaches them there. “I haven’t received a response from him, either. I think the chances of him being in any real danger are slim, but this really _is_ unlike him…”

Gavin crosses his arms. “I’m gonna go look for him.”

“It won’t do any good,” Hank reminds. “This ship is huge—there’s no telling where he ran off to.”

Gavin doesn’t like that answer—visibly so. He downs his double shot of whiskey and struts back to the bar table, passing Nate his ship card so that he can pay for it. Afterward, he storms back over. “So…we just sit with our thumbs up our asses and wait?”

“Maybe not…” Connor crosses his arms, raising a hand to his chin in thought. His LED spins yellow. “Hank…do you recall how I tracked down the blue-haired Traci all that time ago?”

Hank frowns. “You mean connecting with all those other Tracis?”

Connor nods. “I was able to look into their memories and see what they’d seen for the past couple of hours. I narrowed it down by time frame as I pinpointed just what direction she had gone in. It may take a long time, but I could attempt to do the same with other androids here.”

Hank and Gavin exchange glances, before Hank speaks up. “It’s been just under a full day since we got on this ship. That’s a wide timeframe to have to review over and over again.”

“I can process the data almost instantly,” Connor replies. “And when Richard returns, the two of us can cut the time in half by doing it together. There’s even a possibility that doing this could help us locate Richard, himself.”

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Gavin questions, only somewhat impatient now. The chance of finding his partner has clearly earned his permission.

“You stick with me, but subtly,” Connor explains. “We’ll stay within a couple of rooms of one another. That way, if I find something, I can regroup with you and we can follow it. I think it’s the best choice we have right now, even if it is somewhat invasive.”

“Somewhat,” Hank deadpans. “Connor, you’re basically shoving your hand into these androids’ brains.”

Connor shakes his head. “I won’t be forceful like I was before.” He smiles, folding his hands behind him. “Markus has taught me a few things since then. I may not have as gentle an influence as him, but I believe I can handle this task. If anyone is unwilling, I won’t force their hand.”

Hank glances at Gavin, who still has his arms crossed. He shrugs. “I don’t see a better choice right now. Beats stumbling around looking like a bunch of dipshits.”

Hank still remembers the first time he’d seen Connor interface with another android. He had threatened to do so with Ortiz’s android, but he hadn’t actually done it until they’d gotten to the Eden Club. When he had taken that Traci by the forearm and receded his own skin. He hadn’t looked like he was probing her memory. The exchange had been almost formal, and yet…it had been incredible. A reminder that while Connor is very much a living thing to Hank nowadays, he’s still much more powerful than a human.

Hank should be scared of him, but if anything, he feels protected. At one point, he’d been unnerved, but…Connor’s innocence and naivete have proven him wrong plenty of times. He trusts that Connor knows what he’s doing here.

The whole process is pretty simple, too. Connor starts them off in the atrium, where all the seats have been pushed to the back of the room and swing music is playing. Connor uses his powerful social module to integrate perfectly with the people dancing in front of the band performing. The beat is exciting and jaunty, and Hank honestly doesn’t mind the fact that they’re going to be spending a decent while here. They can get away with being in the same room this time because of how many people are there, so for now, Hank orders a drink and Gavin sits at a table with him. The next band is apparently a group of jazz performers, and Hank kind of finds himself hoping Connor chooses to spend a long time in here so he can give them a listen.

For now, he and Gavin watch the other dancers, occasionally stealing glances at Connor as he joins in with androids and humans alike. A female android—one Hank might have identified as a household android back before the revolution—dances in front of Connor, and the two of them fall into step together. Connor is graceful and somehow clumsy all at the same time, but he’s responsive to the music, and he picks it up quite quickly. Soon enough, the two of them are fully engaged in one another.

Hank sees the interface. It doesn’t look forced. He sees the way the skin on the girl’s arm recedes as Connor takes hold of her hand. A moment of astonishment from her, followed by a relaxed sort of smile. What is Connor telling her to convince her to let him see into her head?

Either way, they separate soon enough, and Connor moves to join a few others. He eventually slips back away from the dance floor, where some people are standing, observing, and Hank finds it safe to turn his attention away for a moment.

“Did you see that shit?” Gavin questions, drawing Hank’s focus to him. “Their skin going away—that’s how he looks into their memories?”

“Something like that,” Hank responds. “I don’t really understand it all myself, but Connor seems to know what he’s doing. It got us through the case at the Eden Club. You know, the one where you thought the guy’d just gotten a little too excited and kicked the bucket?”

“Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up,” Gavin sneers irritably. “I just didn’t want to spend any more time in there than I had to. That guy smelled like sweat and shame.”

“Huh,” Hank teases, “I’d think that’d be a scent you’re used to, going by the story you gave Nate about the tissues earlier.” There’s a playful smile on his face, but that doesn’t stop Gavin from glaring across the table at him.

“Not my fault you don’t need shit like that anymore. Aging sucks, and I’ll pray for your non-functional dick later.”

“My dick works just fine, fuck you very much,” Hank growls back. He thinks that maybe this is about as close to friendly banter as he and Gavin are ever going to get, and honestly, he doesn’t expect any more. Gavin has always been his ornery, attitudinous self. This is just as good as it gets with him. Hank is sure Richard would agree if he were around, and neither of them would have him any other way…as surprising as that fact may be.

Speaking of Richard…where is he? It’s been a few hours, now. Hank hasn’t had the chance yet to ask Connor if he’s heard back from him electronically, but it’s starting to make him uneasy. Judging by the way Gavin keeps fidgeting, he has a feeling the other detective feels the same way about it.

Either way, Connor announces he’s departing the atrium by way of bringing up a performance that’s going to be taking place in the auditorium soon with a human as he passes by. Hank and Gavin take those words as a sign and decide it’s time to head out there as well. They give it a minute or so for Connor to disappear to the elevator, and then they climb into the next one up.

The performance must be something spectacular, because the room is crowded as hell. The seats are mostly occupied, so Hank and Gavin find they have to stand up against a balcony on the second level. Connor is moving about the first level, pardoning himself and placing hands on shoulders as he passes. Hank can’t tell in this lighting, but he has a feeling Connor is doing the same thing he was in the atrium as he goes. How is he going to respond when someone refuses? Have they already? Is Connor just that apt at playing it off?

The room goes dark moments later, and stage lights focus in on a group of performers on the stage. The theme is some sort of story about a rock band that travels from venue to venue. The stars are five men, bandmates, who go from place to place (displayed by a rotating stage and moving props) and meet different people, performing different songs along the way. All in all, it’s an enjoyable piece, and Hank finds that when he glances over at Gavin, even the detective himself is getting pretty into it.

During the intermission, he’s not ready for someone to appear behind him. He damn near jumps over the balcony when Richard’s voice reaches his ears.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you all,” he announces, and both Gavin and Hank round on him.

“Where in the fuck have you been!?” The Lieutenant and Detective both snap simultaneously, irritable and still a little shaken up by Richard surprising them.

Richard just smiles apologetically, raising both hands in surrender. “I thought I was on to something. I’ll explain later. Where’s Connor?”

“Down there somewhere,” Hank says, motioning to the first level beneath them. He hasn’t spotted Connor yet, but the other android is undoubtedly still meandering and randomly interfacing with androids as he goes. “He’s been messaging you our whereabouts.”

“I responded to them once I had the chance to,” Richard answers calmly. “That’s how I found out you were all in here. Anyway, can we go somewhere a little more secluded for a moment?”

Hank casts one more glance down toward Connor, but eventually nods his head and follows Richard outside and toward a restroom. He and Gavin follow Richard inside, and then once they check to ensure all the stalls are empty, Gavin leans against the door to hold it shut. Once Richard deems it okay to start speaking, he props himself back against the sink and his expression grows serious.

“I started to notice it late last night,” he begins. “I was on the Promenade deck when I spotted a man whose image matched Connor’s pictures by around sixty percent. His facial features—shape of his nose and chin in particular—were identical, but his hairstyle and eye color were indecipherable from the picture. I also have reason to think he wore contacts at the convention. Anyway, the man was speaking to another man—a younger one, probably early twenties, if that. He kept trying to reunite with the man, to the point that said man seemed to become uncomfortable with him. He was very obviously being followed.”

Hank glances at Gavin, and then back at Richard, who keeps speaking. “Around eight this morning, I parted ways with Detective Reed and followed them. This man had kept the poor guy up all night long, because he was too afraid to return to his stateroom alone. I eventually offered to escort him there, which was around the time I responded to Connor’s messages. This man filled me in on some information.”

Richard _thought_ he was on to something? It honestly sounds like he knew he was. In any case, Hank listens, eager for the next bit.

“The man confronting him was soliciting sex. He’d told him his stateroom was on the sixth deck if he wanted to meet up. Assuming he’s not lying about his location, we now have a general location of his room for when he goes to sleep at night. I’m mostly certain we’re on the right track.”

Gavin frowns. “The report Warren had given us stated he offers people jobs. So either you’ve found another sicko, or the freak’s switched tactics.”

Richard shakes his head. “We can’t be sure yet. But I also received Connor’s information about this android you ran into, Lieutenant. If York’s followers are indeed on this ship, we’ve got our hands full.”

“We don’t know how many there are,” Hank adds. “Have you given Connor this information?”

“I was going to after I discussed it with the two of you. We should go find him now, actually. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Everyone nods in agreement, and Gavin steps away from the door. Just as he does, a man comes barreling inside and throws himself into a stall, where he proceeds to hurl loudly in the bathroom. Hank groans in disapproval, and Gavin scoffs as they head out.

They step back into the auditorium, where the crowd is starting to takes its places back in the seats. Hank unconsciously scans the lower floor for Connor once more. He doesn’t see much as the room dims around them. There’s a sea of yellow and blue LEDs around the area, and then the bright lights fix on the group on the stage again.

The show evolves into a love story, where the bassist of the band meets a girl at a bar and they fall in love. A lot of classic rock songs that Hank remembers growing up with his parents listening to are covered in the show, and Hank can’t help but nod along to the beat. He’s fairly lost in the production, until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

He glances over at Richard, who is grasping him. His LED is bright red, before he fixes gleaming blue eyes on Hank. It’s almost frightening how brightly those eyes seem to shine in the darkness of the auditorium.

“I just received a distress call from Connor,” he explains quickly. “We need to go, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said no promises on keeping this three chapters? Yeah, this is why...
> 
> At the very least, I finished both chapters before posting this time, so!


	4. Chapter 4

_“I don’t think I like heavy metal, Lieutenant.” _

_The words are so out of place that they’re startling. Hank finds himself turning to face Connor, genuine confusion and shock on his face. He could have guessed that much about Connor’s words, but he leaves room for the android to explain as he chomps away at the pizza in his hand while they wait in his car. They’re in the middle of a stakeout—something Hank hasn’t done in years. It’s kind of exciting._

_“I think that it’s too intense for me,” Connor continues to explain, a placid smile on his face. “However, I’ve taken the time to listen to some of your favorite jazz musicians, and I quite like them. They say that genres like blues and jazz were the birthplaces of rock and roll, you know.”_

_Hank scoffs, a grin fixed around a mouthful of tomato sauce and bread. “Heavy metal isn’t for everyone, and sure as hell not Knights of the Black Death. But I love ‘em. They’re like therapy when you’ve been dealing with assholes like Jeffrey and Gavin all day long.”_

_“Really?” Connor tips his head to the side, wearing an expression of genuine perplexity that exceeds the power of his yellow flickering LED. “How so?”_

_Oh…right. Connor probably doesn’t understand the concept of venting anger through music. He’s never seen Hank do much more than listen to his music at full volume. Contrary to how things have been lately, Hank has a history of screaming right along with his favorite band in the car until his voice is hoarse and attempting to talk through what’s left of it has Sumo looking at him like he just sprouted a second head. _

_“Uh…let’s see…” Hank tries to think of a way to explain it. “When you’re angry, you get…real fuckin’ tense inside. Sometimes, your skin even feels on fire. Your chest and head are pulsing and you’re ready to lunge at the nearest living thing and beat the shit out of it. But you can’t, as a civilized human being.”_

_Connor nods, clearly in understanding, so Hank continues._

_“So instead, you’ve gotta take that anger and release it elsewhere. And when you get to screaming, it’s like you’re pushing all of that right out of your system. Yeah, it doesn’t do shit about the fact that some douchebag has effectively ruined your day, but at least you’re not holding it all in anymore, you know?”_

_Connor ponders the words again for a moment, before he nods yet again. “I think I understand, yes. To the extent of my ability, at least.”_

_Hank laughs a little. “If we weren’t supposed to be quiet right now, I’d have you try it.”_

_“I don’t think it would have the same effect on me, Lieutenant,” Connor replies easily. _

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

Fuck…Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Where is he!?” Hank snarls as they pace quickly down the hall.

Richard shakes his head. “He couldn’t give me much information, I’m assuming. The signal he transferred me pinged somewhere on deck eleven.” That’s the Promenade floor, where the cafeteria and some of the outside deck are.

The three of them don’t bother with the elevator. They’ve got to find Connor. A distress signal isn’t much to go on. There’s no telling just how bad the situation is, and with the afternoon hours starting to fade into evening hours, things are getting less and less simple as time goes.

And like _hell_ is Hank losing Connor to this jackass.

They’ve got a whole ship to explore, so they separate at the base of the stairs. Nines takes the front end of the ship while Gavin and Hank sprint down toward the back. On the Promenade deck, the cafeteria takes up the entire back end, and then there’s an outside deck you can cross to reach the front end. The outside deck looks over the Lido deck on the floor below. Hank watches Richard cross over this deck in a sprint, passing by confused passengers without missing a beat. He even vaults over a series of deck chairs in the process.

In a different time and a different place where matters weren’t so pressing, Hank might have found it flattering that Richard has gone and gotten himself as attached to Connor as he has. They’re like brothers, almost.

In any case, he and Gavin sprint through the cafeteria, glancing from family to family at each of the tables. It’s late enough in the afternoon that people aren’t swarming the area, so it’s a little easier to look around, but Connor is nowhere to be seen. Of course he is. This guy wouldn’t leave a victim out in the open. Nobody would be stupid enough to do that on a cruise ship that’s swarming with people.

So he and Gavin start searching for other rooms. There’s a small alcove where another elevator leads up just one more floor to the adult deck, but there’s no one there, so they fan out in the cafeteria. Hank tries the bathroom on one end, checking the stalls, but finds nothing. He sees Gavin questioning the kitchen staff about Connor, but as he passes, notices that they can’t give him the answer he wants.

They check every nook and cranny until they reach a restroom on the other end. Hank meets Gavin’s stare and then nods his head, giving the knob a twist.

But it stops. As if it’s locked, the handle won’t move.

“Stand watch,” Hank tells Gavin, before he starts away from the restroom. He locates a young man sweeping the floor and clears his throat. The man looks up to regard him and fixes him with a polite smile.

“Can I help you, Sir?”

“Yeah,” Hank starts, gesturing toward the bathroom, where Gavin is standing. He takes equal parts amusement and relief in how Gavin makes an exaggerated gesture of pretending he really has to pee. “My buddy over there’s about to piss all over himself—you wanna unlock that bathroom door for me so he can do his business in private?”

The staff member frowns, and predictably gestures toward the opposite side of the cafeteria. “There’s another bathroom over there that’s perfectly suitable for use. This one’s probably locked for cleaning or maintenance.”

Hank sighs. “It’s, uh…real urgent. You see, he had a little too much to drink, and you know how that goes…”

“I can’t unlock the door, sir,” the man responds apologetically. “You’ll have to show him the other one.”

Hank knows Fowler had insisted they not use their status as officers against anyone here, but he’s got to try something. Connor could be locked up in there. Or at the very least, a clue to where he is likely waits inside. That in mind, he pulls out his wallet and holds his badge up. “Police duty—just go unlock the door.”

The man, who Hank notices by the tag on his shirt is named Arnold, frowns deeply. “Your friend must really have to go, Officer.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Hank grunts, before nodding toward Gavin once more. “C’mon. I’ll leave you alone soon as you get it open.”

He can tell the proffered Arnold doesn’t want to do as he’s told, but he appreciates that the guy does it anyway. Soon enough, they’re headed to the bathroom door once more, where Gavin steps aside. He’s making the comical gestures of a cartoon character needing to pee, his legs all scrunched together, hands squeezed tight between them.

“About goddamn time you got someone,” he growls at Hank, who just rolls his eyes.

The employee unlocks the door, and then waves a hand and walks away. “Good luck, officers.”

Gavin bursts out laughing. “You actually had to show the fucker your badge.”

“Shut the hell up,” Hank grunts in retort, before he pushes the door open. He feels almost naked without a gun to pull from a holster, but he reminds himself that if there’s an attacker inside, they most likely don’t have a weapon either.

The bathroom is actually silent, which makes Hank more uncomfortable. A quick glance at Gavin tells him he feels the same way. Regardless, Hank bolts the lock shut once more (and takes notice of just how easy it is to lock these doors from the inside, which must be why he was able to grab any old staff member for help unlocking it) and then peers up. There’s a single vent in the ceiling, but it’s too small for anyone the shape and size of a human to fit inside. A cat would have trouble, even.

Gavin slips to the side and pushes open the first stall, while Hank moves further into the restroom. All the bathrooms on the ship are small in size, with just three or four stalls each. The last stall is a handicapped stall, with easily the most space, so while Gavin covers the smaller ones, Hank goes straight for that one. He braces, working to control his breathing, and carefully urges the door open.

He’s expecting to see something—a man screaming for him to close the door on the shitter, Connor all laid out on the ground, thankful to see him, or even a rodent fleeing the scene. What he isn’t ready for is a whole big view of nothing, followed by Gavin cursing loudly from the stall next to him.

Hank all-but flies out of the stall and moves to stand beside Gavin, who is gaping inside the stall. When Hank sees why, he damn near shoves Gavin out of the way.

Connor is sat up next to the toilet, his shirt and jacket wide open and his abdominal panel exposed. Several wires are visible, and thirium courses down his front, toward his belt. He doesn’t seem to be leaking too terribly, but he’s in relatively bad shape.

“Connor—shit, Connor!” Hank drops to his knees and scoops Connor up, moving him out of the stall and laying him flat on the ground outside of it. His LED is flickering red, but Hank can’t tell how close to shutdown he actually is. Either way, he’s unresponsive. As Hank continues to call out to him, he doesn’t so much as glance at him.

“Shit!” Gavin steps back. “Shit, shit, shit! We need to find Nines—he’ll know what to do.”

“We don’t know where he is,” Hank argues shakily. “And I’m not leaving Connor here, and we sure as fuck can’t separate again.”

“He’s separated from _us_!” Gavin snaps. “You think it’s cool to leave him in the dust?”

“No,” Hank retorts, “I don’t. But we need to think this through.”

“The answer’s pretty goddamned obvious,” Gavin grumbles as he paces back and forth. “We get another android who might know how to fix this one, and we track whoever did this down and _arrest_ them.”

Trust and believe, Gavin Reed. Hank wants nothing more than to track this fucker down and arrest them. But it’s honestly so much more complicated than that. There’s so much more at stake now, and they still don’t have a lead on the guy. Connor was abducted, probably for interfacing with an android who had been on York’s side, and now that he’s unresponsive, they still don’t have answers. And Hank’s nervous as shit, because he doesn’t know how badly damaged his partner is.

When he doesn’t respond, Gavin lashes out and gives his knee a swift kick. “Think of something, asshole!” Hank glares up at him just in time to see the panic on his face. “Or is this the part where you drink yourself silly and give up like you always do?”

Those words are like a punch to the gut. A part of Hank knows Gavin isn’t exactly wrong in making a claim like that. It wasn’t until recently that he even bothered to slow down drinking. At the very least, he’s stopped playing Russian Roulette…

“You know,” Gavin continues ruthlessly, his gray-green eyes cold and yet on fire with the acid-burn of malice, “I used to look up to you.”

This isn’t the time for this argument. Hank thinks that perhaps it’s been a long time coming, but he still doesn’t want to get into it. Not with Connor basically dead on the ground. “Can we talk about this later?”

Gavin doesn’t seem to hear him, though. Either that or he just doesn’t care. He keeps going, stopping dead in his tracks to glare venom in Hank’s direction. “I was just a beat cop when you made that big drug bust that got you famous. I admired the shit outta you. If you were able to close down an entire red ice ring, I knew you could just about do anything. I wanted to _be_ like you.”

Hank feels heavy all over. He misses the way he was in those days every single second that passes by. He doesn’t want to be the washed-up old cop he is today. Or…was, before Connor came into the picture.

“And then I made detective and we got to work _together_,” Gavin continues easily. “I was like a kid in a goddamned candy store. Hank Anderson was my partner, and we worked _well_ together.”

“I lost my son, Gavin,” Hank defends dully, mostly because he knows the response isn’t going to fly. “You’ve never had kids—it’s not your place to act like you know how I should respond.”

“I’m not the only one pissed off about how you responded,” Gavin sneers. “But that’s not even the goddamned point. You were never supposed to be the guy who tried to drown himself in self-pity. You think your kid would want to see his dad go from being the cool cop who saved the city like fuckin’ Batman to the guy who hates his life and makes a point of showing it every day? Fuck _off_, Hank!”

Briefly, Hank wonders how deeply those words run for Gavin. He doesn’t know much about the detective’s past before the DPD, but what if he’d lost a parent to alcoholism or something? Hank doesn’t know. He also doesn’t have time to ask right now, because Connor suddenly jolts into motion.

One of his hands shoots into the air and catches Gavin by the shin. Gavin curses loudly and stumbles backward, before Connor raises his other hand. His head isn’t moving. It’s just his arms. Just how badly damaged _is_ he?

His LED still flickers a rapid, unrelenting red as he starts moving his hands. His movements are slow and almost twitchy, but after a few seconds of just watching, it becomes obvious he’s using sign language.

Shit…Hank has no idea what he’s saying. Connor is trying desperately to tell them something, and he might as well be doing it in Japanese, because Hank has no clue.

Gavin, on the other hand, drops to his knees next to Connor, within his field of vision. “You’re saying you can’t talk, right?”

Connor can barely move his head, but he does manage something of a nod, before he continues signing. Gavin’s attention is completely focused on it, which yields some amazement from Hank. Since when has Gavin been able to read ASL? Either way, he watches while Gavin tries to figure out what Connor is telling him.

“It’s not critical,” Gavin reads aloud, and Connor confirms with a quick nod. “They damaged your legs and your voice. But we can fix it?”

Again, Connor nods and keeps signing, moving his head the best he can as part of the language.

“They disconnected wires…you can’t scan to see which ones. You want us to do it.”

Another nod.

“Holy shit…” Hank shuffles closer.

Connor is still signing, and Gavin is still nodding along. Out of the blue, the detective reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out. He turns the flashlight on and shines it into Connor’s open abdominal panel.

“He says you need to look for wires inside that have the same code. I think he’s telling me the code is at the bottom of each wire.”

Connor nods again to confirm, and Hank mirrors the nod. He dips down and peers into the open panel, examining the wires inside. There are definitely ones that have simply been disconnected from other ones. The ones that are disconnected connect through a part system to one another, and it’s a matter of simply screwing them in properly.

“They just…unhooked shit,” Gavin realizes aloud. “They didn’t damage him. He’s got a couple of leaks from being disconnected in parts, but they didn’t hurt him. Like taking out one of those three cables back before HDMI was a thing…”

Hank nods his head in agreement. “They probably didn’t wanna be charged for assaulting an android. They’re most likely still thinking they can get away with this.” He twists a wire into place, and Connor’s voice fills the room once more.

“Correct,” the android explains. “They were buying time. We’re almost at the twelve-hour mark when it comes to arriving at Belize. They’re looking to keep you distracted. Hopefully, Nines catches on to this, wherever he is.”

Hank breathes a long sigh of relief. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Connor, you scared the hell outta me.”

“So what happened?” Gavin questions, clearly in a hurry to get to the bottom of things. He no doubt wants to find Richard and make sure he’s alright.

Hank connects the last two separated wires, and Connor’s legs spring to motion again. As Hank backs away, the RK800 sits upright and scoots back against a wall, closing his abdominal panel. He works on his shirt, buttoning it up. “I opened up a connection with an android in the auditorium, and she and another android—your Nate, actually—disabled me right there. Carried me off like I’d simply gone to sleep, and hid me in here. I sent out a distress call once I knew I was staying where I was. Glad you all found me, but we need to get back to Richard. I’m pretty sure I know where Harold York is.”

Gavin and Hank exchange glances as the three of them stand up and head for the door.

With the cafeteria still mostly empty, Connor continues to talk freely as they traverse it. “If what my captors were telling me is true, he’s been spending most of his time on the top deck.”

“The adult deck,” Hank remembers aloud. “So our guy’s schmoozing around like an asshole, getting drunk and shit, even though the world’s coming to an end.”

“I mean, Belize is still a ways away,” Gavin muses, and Hank shoves him.

“Richard told us something incriminating, too,” Hank adds. “About a potential victim. We might have a reason to get him behind bars somewhere in here.”

“Do they have something like that on a cruise ship?” Gavin wonders.

“Cruise ships have morgues,” Connor points out, “so I’m certain they have cells.”

“And his followers?” Hank suddenly realizes. “We can catch him, but that doesn’t mean all his goons aren’t going to do anything.”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m not certain he has as many followers as we’re assuming. In interfacing with the sixty-three androids I encountered before I was attacked, just one of them seemed to follow York’s cause. That one was the one who attacked me. It just so happened she had another with her.”

“The man’s a lunatic, and most of his groupies seem to be androids,” Gavin muses aloud. “He must give off a creepy vibe to humans.”

Connor’s LED flickers yellow again, before he turns his focus to Hank. “I just got a communication from Richard. He said ‘top deck’.”

“So he’s already on to the guy,” Hank observes. “Let’s go, then.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

How Richard came to the conclusion to search for York on the adult deck is beyond Hank, but at least they’re getting somewhere. It costs them each a good chunk of money to board said adult deck, but they shell it out regardless. None of them have the balls to put it on their expense account after what Fowler had said, even if it is for police business.

But he definitely sees why it’s so expensive. The drinks on this deck are open bar, and there’s a private pool with deck chairs. It’s a retreat where kids aren’t allowed, and it’s significantly less chaotic. The staff is much more attentive to passengers here, Hank also notices.

“I’ll try and reach Richard again,” Connor says as his LED flickers yellow once more, though Hank doesn’t honestly see much purpose in it. The deck isn’t that widespread. It’s about half the size of the other ones. Their search radius is much smaller here.

Either way, while Connor attempts his communication, Hank and Gavin start looking around. They all know to stay close at this point, because if York is up here, this could turn into the convention center all over again. There may not be any guns, but there’s no telling which staff members are on his side and how much of a bloodbath this could shape out to be.

“There!” Connor yells, just as he spots Richard approaching a man on a deck chair.

Hank’s blood runs cold. He realizes, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that this man is the one who launched an attack on him and Connor at the convention center.

Richard has another man with him. A younger man, perhaps just into adulthood. Richard is holding up his badge, with an arm protectively cradled around the other man’s shoulders. Behind him, two security officers are approaching.

Harold York stands up. He glances at the man under Richard’s protective grasp, and then he looks at the two security officers, before he fixes his gaze on Richard.

Hank and the others approach just in time to be within earshot.

“We need you to come with us, Mister York,” Richard states plainly, his expression blank.

Harold’s expression doesn’t change. “Under what charges?”

“Reports of sexual assault, for starters,” Richard informs just as calmly as ever. “We’ll need to ask you a few questions.”

It kind of pisses Hank off that the man is still so calm. It’s like he fancies himself invincible or some shit. He keeps that to himself as he watches. Connor passes by him and moves to stand beside Richard as well.

“Can you prove it?” Harold questions.

“I have pictures suggesting you harassed this man, and he claims it was worse than that.”

Connor joins in there, raising his own badge. “I’ve got a few questions for you as well, Mister York. If you’ll kindly come with us…” It’s almost as if he hadn’t been damn near deactivated in that bathroom. Like he hadn’t just gone missing. Connor is still as fearless as ever, even well into deviancy.

Either way, York releases a sigh and raises both hands in surrender. “Are you going to cuff me, then?”

One of the security officers shakes his head. “We’d rather not cause a scene. Just come with us, please.”

The whole experience is surreal. Hank still can’t eliminate the fear from his mind that this is far too easy. Even as he, Gavin, Connor, Richard, and the officers escort York to the elevator and down to the same floor the infirmary is on, it feels like this isn’t over. They’re not going to interrogate Harold York on a cruise ship and get enough answers to place him under arrest. They have some evidence, but they don’t have anything concrete.

It gets more uncomfortable by the second.

In any case, the officers escort the man into what looks just like an ordinary holding cell, lock the door, and stand outside of it. The officers gesture to Richard, who has since referred the young man he’d had with him to the infirmary.

“We need permission to search his stateroom,” Hank says as he faces one of the officers. “What do we need to have that granted?”

The officer frowns. “You have some incriminating evidence, but what is searching an evidence room going to do to prove he’s guilty of sexual assault?”

“That’s not the only charge here,” Hank continues easily enough. Now that they’re in private, he feels more comfortable speaking about it. Connor seems to agree, because he joins Hank and raises a hand up, displaying a picture of Tasha Warren on his palm. “This girl was kidnapped three years ago and held against her will. She escaped a month ago, but there are dozens of others still in hiding somewhere. We’ve got reason to believe this man is the one who did it.”

The officer exchanges glances with his partner, before he turns his attention back to Hank. “We can’t give you permission, but we can request it from our superiors.” He gestures to his partner once more. “Go ask. I’ll stay here during the interrogation.”

The man hesitates, but eventually nods, before he disappears out the door. Hank turns his attention back to Harold, who has taken a seat on the bench in the cell. He has one leg crossed over the other, and he frankly looks bored and perhaps a little irritated. Hank doesn’t give a shit about any of that, though. Either way, Harold looks right up to him.

“So why am I being accused of sexual assault again?”

Hank knows what Richard has done. Finding someone who could rightfully accuse him of something has opened the pathway for him to be locked up. They still have his followers to worry about, as well as proving him guilty before they get to Belize, but they’ll get there. This is the closest thing to progress they’ve had since this whole mess started.

“Your victim claims you followed him around,” Richard starts, “repeatedly soliciting sex from him, even when he told you multiple times he wasn’t interested. I took on the task of observing these solicitations from afar, so I can prove that that much is true. He also claims, however, that you cornered him this morning to invite him to the adult deck. What happened there, Mister York?”

Harold scoffs, before leaning back against the wall. He raises both hands in a shrug. “I invited a guy to the adult deck with me. He refused, so I went up there by myself. I don’t see an accusation there.”

“He explicitly claims you cornered him,” Richard clarifies. “He says you had him backed up against a wall, and he outright told you to leave him alone. Sexual harassment is bad enough, but assault is a very serious charge.”

“That’s just one concern, though,” Hank continues as he steps forward. “Were you actually going to sleep with the guy, or were you going to take him under your wing?”

Harold barks with laughter. “Excuse me? What the hell is that even supposed to mean?”

Connor, despite not needing air in his lungs, makes the exaggerated gesture of a sigh and holds a hand up into the air to display the same picture of Tasha for Harold to see. “You mean to tell me that you didn’t kidnap this girl and attempt to breed her into your family of doomsday obsessors?”

Again, Harold laughs. “Are you actually expecting to get a confession from anyone that way?” He stands up and strides toward the bars, cocking his head and focusing his gaze down on the android in front of him. Hank notices for the first time just how tall Harold York is. “Tell me—even if I did kidnap a bunch of people, would asking me outright really make me confess?”

“Well,” Gavin quips from nearby, “you didn’t say no.”

“We have pictures of you from the convention,” Richard informs simply. “Where you and your followers assaulted my partners.” He gestures to Hank and Connor. “We also have a group of androids onboard this ship who seem to follow your cause.”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” Hank growls quickly, his eyes narrowed. “Regardless of whether you’re gonna confess, we have you behind bars, now. We just have to keep you there until we can get you back to the DPD.”

“You think they’re gonna keep me in jail on a bogus sexual assault charge?” Harold questions. “Not only have you guys got next to no evidence on that one, but you’re trying to outright accuse me of kidnapping?”

“And murder, actually,” Gavin interrupts, unfazed by the man’s attitude.

Hank knows this is Harold, but he also knows the guy is right when it comes to evidence. Pictures might be enough to keep him locked up once they get to the states, but Maritime law is a lot different. There’s no telling what evidence they’re going to need. Hank just hopes that they get permission to search his stateroom. If they can find something good enough in there, maybe they can have Tasha confirm his identity back in the States and go from there.

But they really are grasping at straws. Until they find something stronger, they’re stuck.

Wait…

“What if we called the girl who escaped and had her confirm his identity?” Hank suggests. “We’ll do it right in front of the security team so that they can see her confirm him and everything. He may earn himself a place in prison right there.”

The remaining security officer, who has been instructed to keep out of it for now, suddenly clears his throat. “We’re not the police. Chances are, you’re gonna have to wait till we get to Belize and you can do it with their police officers right there to confirm.”

Hank notices that Mister York has fallen silent, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he keeps his focus on the other security officer. “Can we keep him behind bars until we get there?”

“That’d be another question for the higher-ups. For now, you’re gonna have to bear with us.”

Hank doesn’t like that answer, but at this point, he’ll take what he can get. For now, he and Connor and the others wait for the other officer to return.

\--- --- --- --- ---

They’re given permission to search the room, but not until they reach Belize. However, the ship’s staff has agreed to keep York in his cell until they reach their destination under the condition that someone keeps watch on him at all times so that the staff doesn’t have to. They’re all already under the consensus that they keep their investigation under wraps, so staying quiet is no big deal.

For now, It’s Connor and Hank sitting with him. The staff has been friendly enough to provide them with a table to sit at, at which Hank is scrawling down notes in a little spiral notebook he picked up from the gift shop while Connor glances about the room.

Connor’s silence is almost as unnerving as Harold’s, though. His attention is focused just about everywhere along the room, until Hank can’t take anymore and decides to speak up.

“So, uh…” he tries, drawing Connor’s attention back to him right away. “You sure you didn’t take any damage from what they did to you?”

Connor nods his head. “There are some minor damages, but those can be repaired once we’re back in the States.”

Hank frowns. “How’d all that go, anyway? You said they disconnected wires and that’s all…?”

“Pretty much,” Connor answers easily enough. “They knew which ones to disconnect. They disabled me quickly and then carried me off to somewhere discreet. Nate has likely been a staff member for longer than he’s been following York, because he had access to the restrooms. His job’s likely at more than just the casino.”

“That’s not comforting,” Hank thinks aloud. “That means that at least a few of the people on this ship are staff members. Our guy has connections outside of the United States.”

Harold scoffs from his cell. “You act like this guy is some big famous serial killer.”

Hank scoffs right back. “Well, he’s got connections on the ship, and most of their employees are foreign.”

“You sound like you’re afraid this entire ship is on your culprit’s side,” Harold manages, sounding a little incredulous. “From what you’ve been blabbering on about, he’s killed some kids in Detroit, abducted a bunch more, and attacked you and your buddy. He’s not a mob boss—he’s just a guy with somewhat stronger connections than you thought.”

Hank raises an eyebrow. “You ever heard someone read you your rights, buddy? Because technically, you’re under arrest.”

“I didn’t say anything incriminating,” Harold replies, his voice strangely calm. “Can’t wait to get outta this cell, though.”

Hank rolls his eyes. “Just shut the hell up.” He turns his focus back to Connor. “Did you ever get to get some fresh air last night?”

Connor nods. “Briefly, yes. I couldn’t focus on it for long, though. Maybe when we sail back, I’ll be able to relax more.” He hesitates, before glancing up at Hank. “What about you, Lieutenant? Are you going to enjoy yourself on the way back more?”

“Definitely,” Hank responds around a laugh. “The other half of this cruise is gonna be a fuckin’ vacation for me. Especially once I know I can take it easy. Fowler will be begging to take us on more cruises after this shit’s done and over with.”

Connor just smiles there. “I’m glad. You’ve earned a vacation.”

For the most part, the rest of the night is uneventful. Gavin and Richard bring Hank dinner, and when they try and suggest he go enjoy himself for the night, he outright refuses. He doesn’t want to let this guy out of his sight. Harold may be behind bars, but he still doesn’t feel safe about it. He won’t until they’ve got this guy back in the States and due to go to prison.

It’s not just himself and Connor this is about. It’s Tasha and everyone else he’s kidnapped. They’ve got to make sure they’ve got this deal sealed before they relax even for a second.

So Hank stays there the entire night, and by default, Connor insists upon doing the same thing. They play board games, every single one of which Connor is near perfect at, and playing card games is even more challenging. Connor’s poker face is not surprisingly immaculate. Hank eventually gives up and instead pulls out his phone and plays some old jazz tunes he’s got saved on it, which he quickly learns Connor is extremely fond of. They’d discussed it at one point, but seeing the way Connor somehow grows even more calm than usual when listening is a heartwarming sight.

The night drags on that way. A staff member sets up a cot in the room for Hank, and once Connor reassures him that he’s got the situation under control, he falls asleep right there, his phone playing tunes the rest of the night. Even Harold seems to relax and enjoy the music. Maybe, had Hank been thinking a little more deeply about it, he’d have played some Knights of the Black Death instead and seen how Harold handled that.

In any case, morning comes far more quickly than Hank is ready for. Connor rouses him with a few shakes on the shoulder, and Hank wakes up just in time to avoid getting slapped in the face again. Connor has his hand in midair as he greets him for the morning, and Hank all-but jumps off the cot and moves to get around. He shoots Connor a quick glare, before he runs to the infirmary to get cleaned up.

Hank learns that he, Connor, Richard, and Gavin have been ordered to escort York into a police station nearby. This time, they’ve got the man in handcuffs, and they’re shown off the ship before anyone else as a result. They step out onto the dock and are greeted by four other police officers with two cars. They load Harold into one car and the others into the other one, and then they’re off to the station.

The police station is local and very small. It looks to be two stories and spans roughly a city block in size. Either way, the four DPD officers follow the others into the station, where they’re greeted at the door by another man in uniform. A detective, going by the uniform.

Hank learns here that Connor speaks perfect Spanish. No surprise, of course, seeing as he’s an android and they probably know a lot more than just one or two languages outside of English. It’s just the first time he’s seen Connor doing so. In any case, the two exchange conversation for a couple of minutes, before the man directs them all toward an interrogation room. It’s the same basic concept as the one back at the DPD—a room with at two-way mirror, where Gavin and Richard observe as Hank and Connor speak with Harold.

They give him one last chance to confess to everything he’s being accused of, and he predictably feigns innocence. They already know they’ve got him, though, so they turn to face the mirror.

Connor says something in Spanish, before the station’s detective enters the room. He uses his own personal line to call Tasha’s mother’s number. When Tasha picks up, Connor greets her pleasantly.

_“Connor? You’re the detective from the DPD, right?”_

Everyone in the interrogation room—Harold included—can hear her voice. Hank sees the glint in the man’s eyes. He knows he recognizes that voice.

“Yes, that’s me,” Connor replies aloud. “Listen—I’m going to send you a photo. I need you to identify the person in the picture for me, alright?”

They all hear the hesitation in her voice, before she speaks up again. _“Where are you right now?”_

“I’m in Belize, and so is he. You’ll be safe, Tasha.”

Another long pause. _“Alright. Send me the picture.”_

Hank sees Connor’s LED spin yellow again, and then hears a buzz coming from Tasha’s end of the call. There’s another pause, before Tasha gasps aloud.

_“…No way. He ran all the way to Belize?”_

“It’s a longer story than that,” Connor admits aloud. “But right now, for the sake of evidence, I need you to—”

In seconds, Harold is up. He all-but flies across the table and swings his cuffed hands up, smacking Connor hard in the face. Connor lets out a shocked noise, before he tumbles to the ground. Hank and the detective move into action, determined to stop the attacker from doing any more damage. Hank curls an arm around Harold’s chest, and the man sinks his teeth into Hank’s forearm.

Hank yelps in pain, and blood goes flying. He’s left with a gash on his arm, gaping in shock at the man before him.

It’s like night and day. The calm, mocking man who had been escorted calmly to the police station is suddenly bright-eyed and full of rage. His eyes are wide, teeth bared and stained red with Hank’s blood.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” He snarls at both Hank and Connor, as Richard and Gavin rush in to help. The detective, who Hank now knows goes by the surname Macías, raises his gun and aims it straight at Harold’s head.

“You need to _sit down_,” Macías orders in a thick accent, his pistol still raised. He gestures with the barrel of it for Harold to take a seat, but the man doesn’t obey.

“You all have no idea the way this planet is headed,” Harold sneers, spitting blood onto the floor. “Every day, we destroy the world a little more.”

“That didn’t stop you from taking advantage of all that shit on the ship,” Hank points out bluntly, clutching at his bleeding arm. “You know how much it takes to fuel one of those things? You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite.”

Harold narrows his eyes. “I’m preparing for the end of the world. When everything goes to shit and we don’t have things like gas and electricity and everything we’ve been using to survive, _I _have the answers.”

“No, you don’t,” Gavin sneers back. “You have educated guesses and a bunch of kids kidnapped and being forced to live like apes underground somewhere.”

Harold scoffs. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Hank snaps. “Where are you keeping them?”

“Is telling you going to keep me out of prison?” Harold sneers.

“Nope,” Richard answers.

“Then you’re not getting shit out of me.”

Hank doesn’t worry too much. For one, extracting a confession from this guy was a helluva lot easier than he had initially expected, going by how calmly he had behaved at the start of the mess. Two, Tasha may be able to show them how to get to the others.

The people following Harold’s cause might be something of a problem once Hank and the others re-board the ship, but they’re finally on track with something. And Connor had a point earlier in suggesting that there probably aren’t many of them on the ship. It’ll be a slow process, but they’re going to deal with it all. At the very least, the mastermind is officially going to be behind bars.

“We have everything we need,” Macías tells them, before he motions for his men to step inside. They lower Harold to the ground and switch the cuffs so that his hands are behind his back. “We will need to decide how to handle his charges, as he just committed assault, too…”

“Hear that?” Gavin questions, smirking down at the man on the ground. “You just bought yourself an even worse sentence. Smooth move.”

Harold just glares up at him, before they’re directed out of the room and Hank is packed away into another vehicle.

He spends a handful of hours in the local hospital, getting a tetanus vaccine and stitches. He eventually leaves the building with his entire right forearm bandaged, and they’re directed back on the ship. Hank immediately heads for his stateroom, so he can sleep before the ship departs. Gavin walks alongside him, while Connor and Richard decide to go address the issue of the androids they’d had confrontations with.

Gavin eyes the spot on Hank’s arm, whistling in almost amazement. “Guy bit a fuckin’ chunk right out of you. That’s insane.”

Hank nods, raising both eyebrows. “He did. It hurts like hell, but I’m on enough painkillers to tranquilize a horse, so I’m good.”

“I bet, man.” Gavin looks away, raising a hand to the back of his head, before he lets out a long sigh. “About what I said yesterday…”

Hank fixes him with a deadpan stare. “Don’t bother trying to tell me you didn’t mean it, because we both know that’s bullshit.”

Gavin balks visibly, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, Hank keeps going.

“You’re not wrong, okay? Losing Cole fucked with me, and a big part of me went with him when he died. You don’t bury your son. That’s not what being a parent should be like.” He shrugs as they start out of the elevator and toward his stateroom. “But I’m damned sorry I disappointed you the way I did.”

Gavin looks away, and Hank watches his gaze fall from the walls to the floor as they walk along it.

“I’m doing a lot better, and I’m going to keep doing better. If we work together again, we’ll be just as kickass as we were before, alright?”

Gavin hesitates, but he eventually scoffs and shrugs his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter, because Nines is my partner now. Too late, Lieutenant,” he teases, giving Hank a little shove, before they reach his room. Hank unlocks the door with a roll of his eyes.

“Whatever. Just go and make sure Connor and Richard aren’t running into more bullshit, alright?”

“I know, Hank,” Gavin replies with something of a frown on his lips. “Get some rest.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

The cruise isn’t all fun and games after that. Hank gets his handful of hours of rest, but in the end, he can’t get his mind off of everything that happened. He can’t call Fowler overseas without being charged an arm and a leg too, so he doesn’t get to worry about that until they return to the States. Hank does get to take a few hours to enjoy himself at a bar and then at the casino, and Connor gets to take some time out at the Lido deck like Hank had asked him to, but for the most part, they’re just as busy as ever.

They take a grand total of five androids and two humans under arrest as followers of Harold York. They’re not going to be facing quite the sentence Harold was, but two androids are looking at an assault case for attacking Connor.

Returning to the States, they’re immediately tasked with finding where the other victims are being kept, and when it does happen, it’s a grim sight. Either Harold had taken on too many captives or he just stopped caring, because most of them are either starved mostly to death or already dead.

The body count rests at six, and the survivor count at eleven. They’re all being kept in an underground bunker that had rested in a storm cellar about a quarter mile from Harold’s house. It had been camouflaged heavily, but with Tasha’s help, they’d managed to uncover it and break their way in.

Connor’s damages are minor, and they’re repaired within minutes, inside of the DPD. Hank’s arm suffers more than him, in fact. For the first time in over a decade, Hank makes the news as one of the officers who managed to track down a famous kidnapper that had been involved in a case that had at one point been deemed cold. Alongside him, Connor, Gavin, and Richard are included in the broadcast.

Fowler throws a party for them in celebration of a long-thought-cold case being closed. People from all over the precinct bring in food and drinks, and androids and humans alike celebrate. The DPD is lively for the first time in months, and when Hank and Gavin are pulled into Fowler’s office together, it’s for something other than a lecture for their belligerence.

The excitement is contagious.

About midway through the party, however, Hank receives a phone call. He doesn’t notice Connor following him as he steps outside to take the call.

_“Lieutenant Anderson? This is Tasha Warren.”_

Hank smiles and leans back against the stone of the building. “Hey, kiddo. How’re you feeling?”

_“Relieved.”_ Tasha answers honestly. _“You guys are all over the news. So…you really got him, then.”_

“We really got him,” Hank replies easily. “And thanks to you, we saved everyone we could. You’re just as much a hero as we are.”

Tasha laughs softly over the phone. _“I don’t care about all of that. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, I never want to have to think about being involved in this situation ever again. But I really wanted to call you and thank you. If not for you guys being so persistent, he may still be out there. So…thank you so much.”_

Hank sighs, nodding his head even though she can’t see him doing so. “Of course, kid. That’s just my job.”

He finishes off the call just in time to look up and see Connor standing in front of him. That same goofy, wide-eyed look of curiosity sits on his lips, all bug-eyed and shit. Hank almost can’t help but laugh. But before he does, Connor’s look shifts to a soft smile.

“How is she?”

“Better, I think,” Hank answers. “At least now, we know she has time to recover. Hell, I think I need some goddamn recovery time after all that. Never thought I’d have a guy try to bite my arm off.”

“I think you’re exaggerating, Lieutenant,” Connor replies around a soft sigh that borders closely on a laugh. “Tonight has been nice, hasn’t it?”

“It has, Hank replies with a slight laugh. “This is the first time I’ve seen Fowler look something other than constipated in years. We need to crack more big cases, apparently.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Connor says back, still smiling. When Hank’s smile falls, Connor shakes his head and then turns his gaze ahead of him. “I’ve very much enjoyed my time working alongside you. Even if the cases are endangering to me, I think you and I have the perfect dynamic to handle virtually any situation. We could be exactly what this city needs.”

“Are you proposing partnership to me?” Hank questions with a scoff. “Because I kind of thought that was already a done deal.”

Connor just fixes those big brown eyes on Hank and smiles. “I was just making sure. Sometimes, it’s difficult to discern between what you say and what you mean.”

“No, it’s not!” Hank retorts, his tone shocked. “I say exactly what I mean!”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant…” Connor responds, smiling off in another direction.

And even though Hank is a little too mentally exhausted to take on another case like that, he’s looking forward to whatever comes next. Even after borderline being traumatized by nearly losing Connor twice, he can’t wait to keep working alongside him again. They’re partners, to the end. And it’s quite honestly the best thing that’s happened to the DPD.

Hank thinks back to the conversation he’d had with Connor where he had learned that he too loves jazz music, and then he warmly recalls listening to it with Connor that night on the cruise ship. He thinks that he’s going to take some of his bar nights and spend them with Connor instead, showing him more titles that he thinks he’ll enjoy. It feels good to touch base with him.

Hank has a real friend in Connor, whether the little shit realizes it himself or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone were to ever request something UNDER a certain word count, I'd be fucked. This was supposed to be a oneshot. Maybe like 10k words in total. Keeping it just as short as I have with four chapters was a challenge. 
> 
> In any case, I had a blast with this. I don't usually write gen fic, and police mystery aus definitely aren't my strong suit, but I hope y'all enjoyed it regardless!


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